


Tabula Rasa

by Aini_NuFire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashing, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Lancelot (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Rescue, amnesiac Lancelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: When Lancelot is rescued from a slave camp, he has no memory of his friends or himself. Merlin vows to find a way to restore him, but will he succeed before someone else finds a use for the knight whose mind is a blank slate waiting to be filled…
Comments: 43
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin crouched low on the crest of a ridge looking down into a rock quarry. Arthur and the knights were lined up to either side of him, everyone staying close to the ground as they peered into the basin. A handful of guards stood watch over bedraggled slaves as they slogged to and fro with loads of rock.

"There," Leon spoke up, pointing.

Everyone followed the direction of his gaze to some carts being loaded up with stone. It was hard to distinguish the slaves under the layers of grime that coated their skin in black and browns, but Merlin recognized Lancelot's head of hair and bearing. He was heaving large chunks of rock into the cart, his movements as laborious and monotonous as every other slave's. His chainmail and uniform signifying his rank as a knight were gone, leaving him in just a plain shirt so stained and frayed that it looked as though he'd been down there for months.

He'd actually only been missing for five weeks, but that was long enough. They had searched high and low for him, with no luck. Everyone had started to lose hope of ever finding him. But then a patrol had come across some slavers within Camelot's borders, and the leader had offered valuable information on a knight of Camelot in exchange for his life. And that was how they'd finally learned that Lancelot had been captured and brought to this slave work camp to mine rock from the quarry.

"Get ready," Arthur said. He gestured for his men to spread out.

Merlin tensed, waiting for the attack to begin. When the knights had spread out enough to cover the quarry from a wide angle, Arthur signaled the charge. The knights of Camelot and their King surged over the ridge line and down the slope into the basin. The guards below drew their swords and shouted the alarm while the slaves scrambled out of the way.

Merlin skidded down the incline behind the charge, sprinting for some carts full of stone to duck behind. The knights had quickly engaged with the guards, but more were pouring out from the caves in the rear. At the moment, they were equally matched, but Merlin kept an eye out for any places he might "lend a hand."

There was a large hut in the back of the quarry, and at the sound of the commotion, the door swung open and a man with a pockmarked face stormed out. His expression flashed with surprise, then fury. He thrust his hand out, his eyes flaring gold, and several knights were suddenly flung through the air.

Merlin gaped in shock; he hadn't expected a sorcerer and the slaver they'd interrogated hadn't warned them of one.

The sorcerer strode forward, arm outstretched and lips moving as he prepared to cast another spell. Merlin hissed one first, his own magic bursting to life and sending a nearby cart of rock swooshing forward directly into the sorcerer's path and tripping him. The man pitched forward into a tumble, knocking the cart over, his spell interrupted. Arthur used the moment to charge.

The sorcerer scrambled to get upright before Arthur could reach him, eyes glowing once more. Merlin grabbed a chunk of rock and chucked it through the air. The sorcerer jerked his attention toward it instead, throwing up a hand to halt the projectile midair. That was all the distraction Arthur needed to close the distance and run him through.

The sorcerer gasped in surprise, the light in his eyes dimming, and the rock held aloft by his magic dropped with a thud on the ground. Arthur yanked his blade back out and let the body fall in the same manner.

The rest of the knights were making quick work of the remaining guards, and so Merlin broke cover and crossed the quarry toward where they'd last seen Lancelot. Gwaine was headed that way too and they both found their friend helping a feeble looking man hobble away from the center of the fighting.

"Lancelot!" Gwaine called out.

Lancelot whirled, stepping in front of the older man and throwing his hands up. Gwaine quirked a confused look at him.

"Easy there, mate, it's just us."

Lancelot's eyes, however, remained wide and alarmed. "Please, don't kill us."

"What? What's the matter with you?"

"Lancelot," Merlin interjected, eyeing his friend with concern. "Don't you recognize us?"

Lancelot flicked a frightened look between the two of them, his hands still raised in surrender.

Merlin and Gwaine exchanged bewildered looks.

Clanking footsteps heralded Arthur and the other Round Table knights coming over to join them.

"Lancelot," Arthur greeted. "It's good to see you."

Lancelot stared back at him blankly.

"He doesn't know who we are," Merlin told them.

The knights looked at each other in confusion.

"What?" Elyan blurted. "How can that be?"

Merlin had no idea, but before he could try approaching Lancelot, the man he'd been helping let out a low moan from where he'd collapsed on the ground. Lancelot glanced over his shoulder at him, then at the crest on Arthur's armor.

"You've come to claim the mine," he said. "Please, we are hard workers. With proper food and rest, we can serve you for many years. Just spare the weaker ones, I beg you."

Arthur looked stunned and mildly sick at that. "We didn't come to claim the quarry. We came to free everyone."

Lancelot gazed back like he didn't understand.

Merlin took a cautious step forward. "I'm Merlin. We're your friends. You don't remember us at all?"

Lancelot shook his head slowly. "I don't remember anything from before a few weeks ago."

"Nothing?" Leon echoed.

"No. I woke up with no memory of anything, not even my name. I was told I was a slave here and had been in an accident. They sent me back to work as soon as I was strong enough."

"You are most certainly not a slave," Arthur said indignantly. "You're a Knight of Camelot."

Lancelot looked at him dubiously again. "I'm a what?"

"A knight," Arthur repeated. "Sir Lancelot of Camelot."

He frowned. "They call me Haleth."

"Lancelot," Merlin spoke up. "Er, Haleth, I'm an assistant to the court physician back in Camelot. Do you mind if I look you over?" He held out an arm, a mixture of patient and coaxing as he gestured for Lancelot to come take a seat on a flat boulder.

Lancelot looked at him warily but nevertheless moved closer and sat down. Merlin gave him an encouraging smile.

"So you had a head injury when you woke up here?"

He furrowed his brow. "Well, not that I remember."

"But you were in an accident."

"That's what I was told."

Merlin made sure to move slowly as he raised his hands to gently prod around Lancelot's head in search of an injury. But the knight had been in this place long enough that whatever hurt he might have received had healed, leaving no trace of it. And if it had been that minor to begin with, Merlin didn't understand what could have caused the memory loss.

"No residual pain? Headaches?"

"No."

"Merlin?" Arthur prompted impatiently.

"I can't explain it. Maybe Gaius will know."

The older man who was still sitting on the ground a few feet away spoke up timidly. "Some men brought here are like that."

Merlin turned toward him. "There are others with no memory?" One case was just a random occurrence, but more than one?

"There have been."

"Did they have head injuries?"

The man shook his head. "I've seen them sometimes, when they arrive in the slave wagons. Sometimes a man is taken to see the boss instead of being thrown into the pits first. And the next day when he's brought out to work, his mind is blank. Pliable."

Merlin did not like the sound of that. He grimaced as he asked his next question in front of Lancelot. "Is that what happened with him?"

The old man shot an apologetic look at the knight and nodded.

"What does this boss look like?" Arthur asked, expression hardening with fury.

The old man shrugged. "Clean. Wears a fur coat vest."

Well, that ruled out the sorcerer as the mastermind.

"Find this boss," Arthur barked to his men.

Several of the knights scattered to do as told.

Gwaine pulled his waterskin from his belt and offered it to Lancelot, who was now sitting there in a sort of daze. No doubt the information had to be overwhelming for him. But he shook himself out of it at the proffered skin and gulped down the water greedily, some of it spilling down his chin and making tracks in the grime there. He wiped the back of his dirty sleeve across his mouth, then got up and went to pass the waterskin to the old man, who also drank from it desperately. The condition these slaves had been kept in was deplorable.

"What's your name?" Merlin asked the man kindly.

"Holland."

"Are you injured?"

He shook his head.

"Just overworked," Lancelot said with a hint of protectiveness as he reached down to help Holland to his feet, then guided the older man over to sit on the boulder.

"These lands aren't officially part of any of the kingdoms," Arthur said. "Who's laid claim here?"

Holland shrugged. "No one I know of. The shipments go anywhere, to anyone who will pay."

Arthur's mouth turned down. "Where are you from?"

"A small village on the edge of Essetir."

"How long have you been here?" Merlin asked.

"Two winters."

Merlin's jaw tightened.

"Did you mean what you said?" Lancelot spoke up, flicking an apprehensive look at Arthur. "About not taking over the quarry?"

Arthur nodded. "I did. All these men are free to return to their homes. I'll summon a council of the kingdoms to determine what to do with this place, make sure it doesn't fall under the control of a ruthless mercenary again."

Lancelot bowed his head gratefully.

Small grunting drew their attention as Leon and Percival returned with a man in tow. He was dressed in a fur vest and certainly looked like someone who may have been in charge.

"Caught him trying to sneak away," Leon reported.

Arthur stepped forward, expression dark and menacing. "Are you in charge of this operation?"

"You have no business here," the man spat.

"You've been kidnapping my citizens, so it is my business." Arthur gestured to Lancelot. "Tell me what you did to my knight or I will have you drawn and quartered right here and now."

The slave master shifted slightly, eyeing Arthur to try to figure out whether he was serious enough to carry out that threat or not. It was a little extreme for him, but they'd all been worried about their missing friend for weeks, and to find him in this state was pushing even Merlin a little toward the edge.

"I had a sorcerer in my employ," the man finally admitted grudgingly. "Whenever we got a slave who had a certain capacity for defiance, the sorcerer would cast a spell to erase their memories. Strength of will is good in a slave, but not when turned against his masters."

Arthur gaped at him incredulously. "You wiped men's minds to make them…more agreeable to slavery?"

The man shrugged. "When all they think they know is being a slave, they don't get in their heads the notion of fighting back." He glanced at Lancelot. "Not even once proud knights."

Merlin's pulse stuttered, horrified by this revelation. Lancelot most certainly wouldn't have submitted to a life of slavery. He would have resisted, maybe even tried to help the rest of these people rise up and escape. So these slavers had taken that from him, taken everything that made him who he was and replaced it with a blank slate they could manipulate for their own agenda.

Another wave of horror slammed into Merlin when he realized the sorcerer who'd cast the spell was dead. Which meant they couldn't make him undo the curse.

Arthur's gaze had drifted over to the man he'd killed, his eyes wide with the same realization.

They turned to Lancelot, their friend, having no idea what they were going to do now.


	2. Chapter 2

The knights finished clearing the work camp, rounding up the remaining slavers to take back to Camelot to imprison for their crimes. They gathered the slaves and Arthur pronounced they were free to return to their homes. He and the knights helped them divvy up the supplies from the slaver's hut to see them through their journeys.

Merlin took a seat on the boulder next to Lancelot, who sat with shoulders slumped forward, gaze on his lap.

"Where do I go from here?" he asked quietly.

"Back to Camelot with us. That's your home."

Lancelot shook his head. "It's a lot to take in. One minute I'm a slave and the next you're telling me I'm a knight?"

Merlin smiled sadly. "You've wanted to be a knight your whole life. But you couldn't because you weren't born into the nobility. Until Arthur changed things."

Lancelot cast a thoughtful look toward Arthur. "He seems like a good king."

"He is," Merlin said fervently. He chanced lifting a hand to clasp Lancelot's shoulder. "And we're going to find a way to get your memory back."

"You have another sorcerer who can help?"

Merlin faltered and glanced at Gwaine, who was standing close enough to overhear them. "Um, magic is outlawed in Camelot," he reluctantly answered.

Lancelot frowned. "Oh."

They fell silent at that. Merlin _would_ find a way, though. Magic had caused this so magic was the way to fix it. He just couldn't reassure Lancelot that yes, a sorcerer was going to help. This Lancelot didn't know about Merlin's magic.

Soon it was time to move out and Lancelot was given a horse. With their prisoners in tow, they all mounted up and headed home.

It wasn't long, though, before Lancelot started to sway in the saddle. Merlin figured he had to be exhausted from working the quarry.

"Hold up!" Percival called and nudged his horse up alongside Lancelot's. "Are you all right?"

Lancelot's eyelids fluttered from more than just fatigue. "Yes, sorry."

Merlin pulled his horse up along Lancelot's other side. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday. We were given food twice a day, but Holland was struggling to meet his daily quota so I gave him my portion this morning."

Merlin shot a spiteful look at the slavers.

"We'll stop for a rest," Arthur announced.

"I'm sorry," Lancelot said earnestly. "You don't have to delay on my account."

"Don't worry about it," Arthur told him firmly. His brow furrowed, looking troubled. "We searched for weeks for you, you know that? We can afford to take as much time as you need."

Lancelot still looked taken aback by the notion that he was held in such high regard as to warrant an entire kingdom looking for him. He swung his leg over the horse, wincing as he clumsily dismounted. Elyan brought him some food, which he ravenously dug into.

"Gaius will have something to help with those strained muscles too," Merlin told him.

"Gaius?"

Merlin's expression fell at the repeated reminder that their friend didn't know them. "The court physician."

He also realized how hard this was going to be for Gwen when she found out. She cared deeply for Lancelot too.

They all stood around awkwardly as Lancelot ate and rested, the reunion they'd hoped to have tempered by this unforeseen complication. Once he looked like he wasn't about to pass out, they got going again.

Lancelot's expression was one of awe when they finally rode through the lower town toward the citadel, like it was his first time seeing the place. Which, Merlin supposed it was. He felt an uncomfortable niggling as he suddenly imagined all the labor it must have taken to mine the rocks and set the stones to build this great castle. Men like those in that quarry.

But Arthur was a better king than his forefathers and would make sure that slave camp wasn't resurrected.

Arthur dismounted from his steed in the courtyard and gestured to his knights. "Put these men in the dungeons." He then turned toward Lancelot. "Let's go see Gaius."

Lancelot looked slightly nervous as Merlin and Arthur took him through the halls toward Gaius's chambers. Merlin couldn't help a pang of disappointment that their friend didn't have more trust in their good will. Lancelot had certainly trusted Merlin enough the first time they'd met. But, then again, Merlin supposed it was hard to trust in general when one didn't even know oneself.

They entered Gaius's chambers and the old physician looked up from his work table.

"Lancelot," he said brightly. "I'm delighted to see you alive and well."

Lancelot fidgeted. "Um, thank you."

"He's lost his memory," Merlin put in bluntly.

Gaius faltered, expression slackening. "I beg your pardon?"

"The slavers had a sorcerer who sometimes erased slaves' memories so they'd be more controllable. He died in the battle."

Gaius straightened sharply, his eyes meeting Merlin's with a knowing look. Next to Merlin, Gaius knew the most about magic and understood the gravity of the situation.

"Is there anything you can do about it?" Arthur asked.

"Ah…I will certainly look into it," Gaius promised. "Magic like that is most certainly…complicated."

Arthur nodded and clapped Lancelot on the shoulder. "If anyone can find a fix for this, it's Gaius."

Gaius flicked another taut look Merlin's way before giving Lancelot a warm smile. "In the meantime, are there any physical hurts that need tending? No offense, my boy, but you look a little worse for wear."

"I'm fine," Lancelot said.

"A salve for sore muscles," Merlin put in.

"Of course." Gaius went over to his shelves and picked up a tin, which he then handed to Lancelot. "Rub a dab of this into wherever it pains you three times a day."

"Thank you," he replied, ducking his gaze shyly.

"We'd better get you to your chambers," Merlin prompted. "You're probably dying for a bath and fresh clothes."

"Oh." Lancelot blinked in surprise. "That…yes."

"I'll send some servants up immediately," Arthur said.

Lancelot's face pinched in discomfort at that, so Merlin quickly spoke up,

"I'll do it."

He didn't get the typical exasperated response from Arthur about not having time to see to his regular duties as it was, which just showed how worried they all were for their friend.

Merlin took Lancelot upstairs and through the corridors toward the knight's chambers. "You're not a fan of being waited on in general," he told him. "But you definitely can't lug a bunch of hot water up for a bath on your own, either."

The tease got him a weak smile in return.

They came to Lancelot's chambers and Merlin opened the door, standing back to let Lancelot enter first. When Lancelot had first moved into them after being knighted, he'd found it all a little much after the places he'd been used to sleeping. He had that same overwhelmed expression again.

Merlin left him to look around, maybe spark some familiarity, and went to fetch the hot water for a bath. He snagged a few other servants to help bring it all up. They were all too happy to assist upon hearing Lancelot had returned safely. All the common-born knights had the servants' respect, as they didn't possess the arrogance of the nobility that led to mistreatment.

"Anything look familiar?" Merlin asked as he poured a bucket of steaming water into the tub.

Lancelot roved his gaze around the furnishings, looking afraid to touch anything in his filthy state. "No."

"Well, it could just take some time." Merlin ushered the other servants out of the room and gestured to Lancelot that the bath was ready. He didn't want to push too closely and make him uncomfortable.

Lancelot went behind the dressing screen. A few moments later, Merlin heard the slosh of water, followed by a low moan.

"Heat's also good for the muscles," Merlin commented.

"I have never felt anything this good," Lancelot replied.

Merlin's heart constricted. He hated to think what little of Lancelot's memories there were that a simple bath was the best thing he'd ever experienced.

He went to the armoire and took out a fresh pair of trousers and clean red shirt, then set them on the chair at the edge of the dressing screen where Lancelot could reach them. He then went down to the kitchens for some food. When he got back, Lancelot was out of the tub and dressed, his wet hair dripping dark splotches onto his fresh shirt.

Merlin grinned as he set the tray on the table. "Now you look like yourself."

Lancelot fingered the soft, clean material contemplatively. "I don't feel like myself. But I suppose I wouldn't know what that would feel like."

"We'll find a way to get your memories back."

"What if you can't?"

"You can't think that way," Merlin urged.

Lancelot gave himself a small shake. "I'm sorry, I must seem ungrateful after everything you've done for me."

"Not at all. I think I'd be terrified if I couldn't remember who I was or the people around me. But you're among friends."

Lancelot nodded slowly. "And…we're friends?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," Merlin assured him.

"Good friends?"

Merlin felt a pang in his heart and tried to keep it off his face. "Yes. You're one of my closest friends. We kind of saved each other's life when we first met. A griffin tried to make mincemeat out of me and you came charging in like the hero you are. You were wounded, though, and I brought you to Camelot for Gaius to patch you up."

"Sounds…exciting."

Merlin's lips quirked. "We have had our share of adventures."

Lancelot finally smiled back at him. His gaze then flicked toward the tray of food. "Is that for me?"

" _Yes_. You shouldn't eat it all at once, though. With how poorly those monsters at the camp fed you, you don't want to risk making yourself sick. Start small and just eat a bit over a few hours."

Lancelot looked positively famished as he sat at the table, but he managed a stiff restraint as he picked only a few grapes and bits of bread from the tray.

"There's plenty more when you've finished all that too," Merlin felt obliged to mention.

Lancelot smiled faintly again. "Thank you."

Merlin nodded. "We're going to help you through this," he promised.

And as soon as Lancelot was settled in, Merlin was going to get to work finding a way to restore his friend.

.o.0.o.

Agravaine stood at Arthur's side as he informed the Council what had happened at the slave camp when they'd gone to rescue Lancelot. That serving girl Guinevere was present as well, and she appeared rather upset over the news that the missing knight had not been found whole.

"He doesn't remember anything?" she asked, expression fraught.

Arthur shook his head soberly. "Gaius is looking for a cure."

Agravaine straightened. "Through magic?" he spoke up. With the memory loss having been caused by a curse, that was the logical solution. "Is that wise?"

Arthur looked torn over the idea. "I don't know. But I want to help Lancelot if we can. It can't hurt for Gaius to do some research, in any case."

Agravaine decided to hold his piece about that for another time. "Where is Lancelot now?" he asked in a thoughtful tone.

"In his chambers, resting."

"Hm," Agravaine hummed. "Are we sure he can be trusted? He is, after all, not the knight we once knew."

Guinevere visibly bristled in indignation at that, and Arthur looked affronted as well.

"He hasn't done anything to prove untrustworthy," Arthur retorted. "And he is still a Knight of Camelot and will be treated as such."

Agravaine held up his hands in capitulation. "I was merely suggesting caution, Sire."

Arthur exhaled heavily. "The castle is a strange place to him, so he's not going to be left alone anyway. Someone will be with him at all times while he readjusts until we find a way to resolve this."

Agravaine bowed in concession.

Once Arthur dismissed the Council, he made haste for the stables and exited the citadel by a side gate where he could pass unnoticed. He rode straight for Morgana to inform her of this development.

She took the news with a gleam of intrigue in her eyes.

"The noble Sir Lancelot has lost his memory, has he?" she simpered. "And magic was behind it?"

"It seems so," Agravaine replied.

Morgana's lips curved upward in a sly smile as she turned toward him. "We can use this."


	3. Chapter 3

Between the hot bath and soft feather bed, Lancelot had slept more deeply than he ever had in the short span that his current memory covered. When he woke the next morning, it was to a brightly lit room and shards of sunlight slanting in at past noon. He came fully awake with a start, embarrassed that he'd slept so long. Back in the quarry they were out at dawn and any stragglers were beaten for their laziness.

Lancelot had to remind himself he wasn't there anymore. It was still a bit to take in.

He sat up and pushed the quilts off, only to stiffen when he noticed someone was in his room, one of the knights who'd been part of his rescue. The man with wavy blond hair was sitting across the room, reading, but he set the book aside when he noticed Lancelot was up.

"Morning."

Lancelot's face heated with mortification as he hastily slipped out of bed. "It seems it's not morning anymore. My apologies for shirking my knightly duties…" He grimaced. "Whatever those may be."

The other knight gave him a kind look. "You obviously needed the rest, and you're not expected to fulfill any duties while you're recuperating."

"I'm not injured," he protested.

"You were held prisoner in a slave camp for weeks. You deserve some rest after that."

Right. That other life felt almost like a dream, and yet this current situation he found himself in felt like a dream too. Everything was just so…off-balancing.

The other knight pointed to a tray of food on the table. "Merlin left breakfast. He also said if last night went okay, you could try eating more."

Lancelot shifted in discomfort because he hadn't caught this man's name, or at least couldn't remember it. Again.

"Thank you. You, uh…don't have to stay."

"I want to. We've already decided to take turns." His eyes flashed as though he'd just thought of something and he got to his feet. "I'm Leon," he said, coming around and holding out his arm.

Lancelot awkwardly took it. "I'm sorry for not remembering you from yesterday. Or from…before."

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry, it was probably uncomfortable waking up to a stranger in your room. We only wanted to be close at hand if you needed anything."

"That's…very kind."

Lancelot moved to take a seat at the table and dig into the food Merlin had left. He tried to remember his manners…or what he imagined would be manners for a knight dining at a table and not a starving slave scarfing down his meager portion in the back of a cave. Sir Leon tried to be unobtrusive by returning to his book.

After he'd eaten his fill, Lancelot gazed around the room awkwardly before clearing his throat. "Am I allowed to walk around the castle?"

Leon straightened. "Of course. I'll give you a tour."

He set his book aside and Lancelot put on his boots, then followed Leon out into the corridor. The passages all looked the same to Lancelot, and he couldn't imagine learning his way around without getting lost. Nothing looked familiar, which only reaffirmed his feeling out of place; he couldn't imagine he'd ever belonged here.

A beautiful young woman came around the corner, her face lighting up at seeing them. "Lancelot! It's so good to see you."

He tried not to fidget in discomfort again. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know who you are."

Her expression faltered slightly, a crack of devastation showing through before she forced a smile back on that radiant visage. "Gwen."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he replied automatically, then winced. "Again."

Her smile turned pained. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." She reached out to grasp his hand. "We're all here to help."

Lancelot felt that niggling discomfort rising up once more. The way she looked at him, he wanted to ask if there was something more than friendship between them. But she hadn't offered up anything tangible to suggest that, and he didn't want to put her on the spot in front of Sir Leon if he was wrong.

So he merely canted his head in an awkward combination of a bow and nod. "Thank you. We should, uh, be going."

Gwen smiled again, gave his hand a parting squeeze, and ducked past him.

Lancelot swallowed hard and continued on the tour with Sir Leon, glancing over his shoulder at Gwen's retreating back.

"She and Arthur are…well, I would say courting, but I suppose it's not quite official, seeing as how she's a servant," Leon informed him.

Lancelot jerked his head forward at that, and he blanched at the notion he'd been caught looking at the King's woman. He furrowed his brow as Leon's words caught up with him. "The King is in love with a servant? And he lets commoners be knights." Lancelot shook his head in disbelief.

"Arthur is a good man," Leon said devoutly.

Yes, it certainly seemed so.

They stepped out into the courtyard and another knight—Lancelot remembered his name was Gwaine—waved them over.

"Perfect timing. We were all about to meet up on the training field. Why don't you join us?"

Leon cast a questioning look at Lancelot, and he shrugged. He supposed it would be interesting to watch, and the fresh air was nice.

He followed the two knights out to the training field where a handful of other knights were already gathered. King Arthur and Merlin were there as well.

"Lancelot," Merlin greeted brightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, thank you."

Gwaine went to the weapons rack and picked up two swords, then brought them over and held one out to Lancelot. "Want to have a go?"

Lancelot gave a nervous half laugh. "I have no idea how to fight."

"Sure you do," Gwaine persisted. "Skill with a blade is in the bones. Maybe waking up some of those instincts could help stir some other memories."

Lancelot cautiously took hold of the sword. He supposed that made sense.

"Um, don't you think it's a little soon?" Merlin put in.

"It can't hurt," Gwaine insisted and nodded to Lancelot. "Come on."

Lancelot felt like a spectacle as he walked out into the center of the field, keenly aware of all the eyes watching him. The sword was heavy and awkward in his hand; he was used to hefting chunks of rock, not weapons. Still, he had the muscle for it.

Gwaine took up position across from him and raised his blade into a ready stance.

Lancelot grimaced as he tried to mirror it. "Go easy," he asked quietly, hoping his voice didn't carry to the spectators.

Gwaine just grinned and moved forward with a light lunge. Lancelot flinched and jerked his blade, clumsily blocking it.

"A little higher," Gwaine coached. "Move with your feet, not your upper body."

Lancelot gritted his teeth as Gwaine put him through some paces with everyone looking on. He tried to follow the knight's magnanimous instructions, but between the footwork, proper posture, and keeping his eyes on his opponent, it was all so much. Gwaine kept gradually increasing the intensity as well until Lancelot couldn't keep up and he reeled backward to avoid a strike instead of parrying and ended up falling flat on his back.

"Sorry," Gwaine said, reaching down to give him a hand up.

"I don't think this is working," Lancelot replied, rubbing at his aching sword arm.

"Maybe Merlin was right; it's a bit soon. We can try again tomorrow."

Lancelot tried to hide a grimace at that; the prospect was not all that appealing. He walked off the field and Merlin came over to take his sword.

"You okay?" the young man asked, further adding to his embarrassment. Fortunately, the other knights had moved on with their own training and weren't still gawking at him.

"I'm fine," Lancelot replied. "But I think I'll go back to my chambers to rest."

"If you wait until Arthur's finished, I'll go with you."

"No, it's fine," he quickly begged off. "You've got duties."

"Okay… I'll come check on you later."

Lancelot nodded, and Merlin gave him a parting smile as he quickened his pace to escape the field.

Unfortunately, the very thing he knew would happen did—he didn't know how to get back to his room. He thought about quietly asking a servant, but he couldn't seem to work up the nerve. Maybe if he wandered around long enough, he'd start to remember on his own. But just like before, not a single thing rang familiar to him. Considering all those weeks he'd spent in the slave camp without ever suspecting or having a feeling there was something more to his life, he didn't think his memory would just start to come back without intervention.

"Lost?" a voice called out.

Lancelot jolted; he'd been standing at a juncture, not sure which way to go, and he hated the fact that it was so obvious.

A man with black hair and fine clothes came toward him. "It's understandable, of course. Where are you headed?"

"My chambers," Lancelot admitted.

The man held an arm out toward the corridor on the right. "I would be happy to direct you."

Lancelot nodded stiffly in gratitude. "Forgive me, everyone has me at a disadvantage."

The man broke into a smile. "Of course, I am Agravaine, Arthur's uncle and trusted advisor. This way."

Lancelot fell into step beside the man.

"May I say, we were all deeply concerned to hear of your…condition." Agravaine sighed. "It's such a tragedy Arthur won't allow you to get your memories back."

Lancelot jerked to a bewildered stop. "What do you mean?"

Agravaine grimaced. "Well, because magic is outlawed, of course. It's also responsible for the deaths of both his parents. I'm afraid he would never consent to using it, not even to return your memories."

Lancelot mentally reeled at the information. Given magic had done this to him, he could see why it was outlawed. But did that really mean there was nothing that could be done for him?

"I'm sure you can earn your place among the knights again," Agravaine went on. "You're a hard worker, after all. Brought yourself all the way up from the drudges to join the ranks of the most noblest posting there is."

He started walking again, and Lancelot was forced to keep up or get left standing there like a simpleton. After a few more turns, Agravaine stopped outside a door Lancelot did recognize.

"Here you are," the man said with a simpering smile.

Lancelot nodded a muted thanks and Agravaine departed, leaving him alone with unsettled thoughts.

.o.0.o.

Merlin sat crosslegged on his bed, books piled around him, the fluttering candle flame illuminating the words on the page he was reading. He paused to rub at his eyes. He'd spent the last several nights up late reading books on magic in search of the spell that had taken Lancelot's memory. If he could find it, maybe he could find a way to reverse it. He'd also been searching for any other magical cures for amnesia, with no luck. Gaius hadn't found anything either, and he'd been researching just as much.

His bedroom door creaked open and Gaius poked his head in. "You should get some rest, Merlin. Arthur is going to notice if you start falling asleep in the middle of your duties."

"I'll tell him I've been helping you," he replied. "He knows that's more important right now."

Gaius sighed. "You can't run yourself into the ground. That's not going to help anyone, especially Lancelot."

Merlin looked up, expression pinching. "What if we can't restore his memory?"

Gaius just gazed back at him sagely. "We'll just have to deal with what comes. Lancelot is your friend; you can rebuild your relationship with him. We all can."

"Not fully," Merlin said bitterly and dropped his gaze back to the book in his lap. "Lancelot was the only one here in Camelot aside from you who knew about my magic. I didn't have to hide myself around him." He lifted his gaze again, moisture pricking at his eyes. "You have no idea how much that meant to me. Which is selfish," he quickly added. "Lancelot's lost everything about himself and I'm sniveling over losing a secret keeper."

"He was a trusted friend and confidante," Gaius said sympathetically. "And when it comes to your special gift, that is hard to come by. It's not selfish, my boy."

"I just want him back. For both our sakes."

Gaius considered him for another moment, then sighed and gestured for him to hand over a book. "Another hour won't hurt. But then we will both get some sleep," he added with a stern mien.

Merlin smiled gratefully and passed Gaius one of the tomes, and together they got back to work.


	4. Chapter 4

After several more sparring sessions over the course of a few days, Lancelot wasn't any better with a sword and his memory still showed no signs of returning on its own. Everyone was trying to be patient with him, but he could see the flickers of disappointment in their eyes whenever he failed to recall something or performed poorly during a duel, and he was beginning to feel frustrated with the whole situation as well. He'd been told that he'd spent his entire life learning and mastering swordsmanship in order to become a knight. Which meant there was no way he could start from scratch and re-earn his position quickly.

He didn't know what that meant for him or what he could do with his life now. He wasn't a noble, had nothing to his name and nothing without his knighthood. Was he to become a servant in the King's house instead? He supposed he could live with that. He knew more about being a slave for hard labor than anything else at this point. But he wasn't sure he'd be able to endure the looks people would give him, knowing what he'd once been and was now reduced to. Also…he'd been given a glimpse of this life that was supposed to be his, and, well, part of him did really want it back. To have a noble purpose. To belong.

So one day he approached Arthur when he found a private moment.

"Lancelot," the king greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering about the possibility of getting my memory back," he broached cautiously.

Arthur's face fell. "Gaius hasn't found anything yet, I'm afraid."

Right. Merlin would have told Lancelot if the physician had.

"What about… Have you asked a sorcerer?"

Arthur's expression twisted into a scowl. "I don't trust a sorcerer not to make things worse." He sighed and reached out to clasp Lancelot's shoulder. "I know this is difficult, but you must be patient. Gaius will find something."

_If there was something to be found_ seemed to be the unspoken qualifier. Because magic was not an option, it seemed.

Lancelot ducked his head abashedly. "Of course. My apologies."

He turned and quickly left before his disheartenment could show on his face. He'd gotten better at navigating the castle, and he found a quiet alcove where he could sit and think about his predicament. It was probably only a matter of time before they all lost patience with him. They were carrying him at the moment, hoping for his recovery. But eventually he would have to become some kind of functioning member of society.

Perhaps it would be better to set out on his own, start over rather than trying to fit somewhere he never could without those pieces of himself that made him belong in the first place.

"Lancelot?" a soft voice queried, breaking through his tumultuous thoughts.

He looked up to see Gwen standing there, expression pinched with concern.

"Are you all right?"

The automatic "fine" he'd been telling everyone for days was on his lips, but then the truth came out instead. "No, not really."

She sat beside him on the stone bench and took his hand. Her touch sparked something inside him, something almost familiar but just out of reach. He gazed down at their joined hands, then looked up into her eyes. There was so much in those depths—gentleness, kindness, ravishing beauty.

"Is there…" he began hesitantly. "Something more than friendship between us?"

Gwen blushed and quickly looked away, extricating her hand as she did so, which Lancelot thought seemed like confirmation.

"Did I do something to hurt you?" he asked, heart constricting at the thought.

She whipped her gaze back to his. "No! Of course not." Her eyes wavered with sadness and maybe remorse. "Once, we were closer. But that was a long time ago. We're just friends now. _Good_ friends."

"I see."

Lancelot wondered what kind of man he was to have let someone like her go. At least she seemed happy with her life.

That made one of them.

He stood up. "I should go."

She looked slightly disappointed. "Alright."

Lancelot turned and walked away. He headed down to the courtyard and passed the other knights as they were getting ready to go out on patrol. But he couldn't join them, likely never would. They waved farewell to him with the promise of visiting a tavern upon their return and then rode out the gate. Lancelot watched them go, feeling adrift where he stood, tethered by the thin promise that there was more for him here yet left behind by his inability to reclaim it.

He made his way to the stables, desperate for company that didn't have any expectations for him or care who he was or wasn't. Maybe he could ask to be a stableboy and spend most of his time with the horses instead of people.

The horse he was stroking suddenly reared her head and nickered, and Lancelot looked over to see Agravaine watching him. Maybe the stables weren't as secluded as he thought.

"You look like a man who's struggling," the court adviser commented.

Lancelot turned back to the horse. "I suppose I am," he admitted.

Agravaine cast his gaze around the empty aisle before moving closer and speaking in a low tone. "I know someone who can restore your memory."

Lancelot frowned. "Who?"

"Someone with a special gift. Arthur can't know, of course. There's a bounty on her head because of her magic. But she can help you."

Lancelot hesitated. He didn't necessarily like the idea of secretly skirting around the King, but he was desperate to get his life back. So he nodded. "Where do I find her?"

"Saddle two horses and I'll show you. Meet me at the back gate."

With that, Agravaine turned and left.

Lancelot looked around the stable warily. No one seemed to be around, so he went to the tack room and swiftly got two horses saddled, then walked them out behind the stable toward the back gate Agravaine had specified. The court advisor wasn't there yet, but after a few moments when it was clear no one else was around, he appeared and swung up into his horse's saddle. Lancelot followed suit, and they slipped out of the castle and rode into the woods.

Agravaine led him to a small hovel in the middle of the forest. The door creaked open at their arrival and a young woman with tangled dark hair and piercing eyes stepped out, waiting as they dismounted. Her expression then shifted into a simpering moue.

"Lancelot."

He faltered. "You know me?"

She tutted sadly. "Yes. We were friends before Arthur had me banished for my magic." She glided forward, stopping just in front of him to peer into his eyes. Somehow it felt like she was looking into his soul. "You poor thing," she crooned, then added, "My name is Morgana."

He swallowed hard. "Can you give me my memory back?"

Her lips curved upward. "I can."

She turned and swept back into her ramshackle dwelling. Agravaine gestured for Lancelot to follow. The interior was dim and slightly musty. An array of jars and herb bundles lined a rickety shelf unit, and a small cooking fire added to the smokey air. Morgana touched Lancelot's elbow and guided him over to a small stool to sit. He tried not to shift nervously but couldn't help casting a look back at Agravaine. The man gave him an encouraging nod.

"Just relax," Morgana said, reaching out to brush back a lock of hair from his brow. "Soon you will be yourself again."

Lancelot took a deep breath and held still.

Morgana began to speak an incantation, her eyes flaring with gold light. Lancelot flinched slightly as the air prickled with magic, making his skin tingle. Morgana placed her palm over his head, the intensity of her strange words deepening.

A concussive force slammed into his body with enough punch to rock him fiercely, but Morgana's hand was like an anchor, barbs hooking him in place. He gasped as memories and memories flooded his mind, a crashing cascade that made his skull feel like it was about to split open. Lancelot screamed before darkness mercifully snuffed it all out.

.o.0.o.

Merlin made his way to Lancelot's chambers, pulse fluttering with trepidation. He finally found the spell he suspected the sorcerer had used to erase Lancelot's memory, which meant he now had a starting point for attempting to reverse it. That process was going to take some trial and error, though, which would require Merlin to confess his magic to his friend and hope that this Lancelot was just as noble and would keep his secret. But if he could restore Lancelot's memories, then he wouldn't have to worry about it anyway.

Merlin knocked on Lancelot's door but didn't wait for a response before pushing his way inside. The room was empty, though. He backed out and headed for the knights' common room next. Lancelot wasn't there, either. Neither were any of the other Round Table knights. Merlin hoped they hadn't taken Lancelot down to the training field again; he could tell those sessions weren't having the effect everyone was hoping for. But then he remembered they were assigned patrol duty. So where was Lancelot?

Merlin searched all over the castle for him, to no avail. Where could he have gotten to? Could he have gone on the patrol? That would be just like Gwaine. Merlin checked the stables anyway, but Lancelot wasn't there. He was getting frustrated and anxious as he came back out, just in time to see the knights returning. But Lancelot wasn't with them either.

"Have you seen Lancelot?" Merlin asked.

"Nope, we just got back, mate," Gwaine replied. He quirked a dry grin. "Don't tell me you lost him."

Merlin rolled his eyes and turned away to go back inside the castle.

"There he is," Percival spoke up.

Merlin twisted around to see him pointing at the gate where Lancelot was riding through on a horse. He couldn't believe Lancelot had left the castle alone.

"I've been looking all over for you!" he declared as he went to meet him.

Lancelot drew his horse to a stop and dismounted. "Here I am," he said with a grin.

The other knights came over as well.

"You all right?" Leon asked curiously.

Lancelot continued to beam at them and spread his arms as he declared, "I remember."

Merlin blinked dubiously. "Wait, what?"

"Really?" Elyan exclaimed.

Lancelot nodded. The rest of the knights burst into elated grins and moved in to clap Lancelot on the back.

Merlin, however, could only gape at him in stunned surprise. "How?"

He shrugged. "I went for a ride, got thrown from my horse and took a knock to the head, and then suddenly I remembered everything."

Merlin's mouth moved soundlessly; he didn't know what to say to that. It sounded…strange. "We should have Gaius check you over."

"I'm fine," Lancelot replied dismissively. "Better than fine now."

"Wait till Arthur hears," Gwaine said excitedly, and the group of knights started making their way to the castle.

Merlin hurried to keep up, still trying to make sense of how this could have happened. He'd been so sure magic was needed to undo the spell, but a simple knock to the head accomplished that? Speaking of which, head injuries weren't something to scoff at, and Merlin really thought Lancelot should let Gaius have a look at him.

But everyone seemed determined to head straight for the council chambers where Arthur was holding session, bursting in with raucous guffaws of joy and beaming grins.

"What the—" their King exclaimed. "Are you all drunk?"

"No, but this calls for a celebration where we get drunk," Gwaine replied.

Arthur shot him an unamused glare.

"Lancelot has his memories back!" Percival announced.

Arthur's irritation vanished at that and he arched his brows in question at said knight. "You do?"

Lancelot nodded. "I do, Sire. And let me say, it's good to be back."

Arthur broke into an ecstatic grin with the rest of them. "How?"

Lancelot shrugged again, seemingly wholly unconcerned with the how. "I'm embarrassed to say getting thrown from my horse did it."

Arthur shook his head in relief. "This is cause for celebration indeed."

Gaius subtly made his way over to where Merlin was standing apart from the joyous reunion. "What did you do?" he whispered.

"Nothing." He'd done absolutely nothing. And it left him utterly perplexed.


	5. Chapter 5

After getting diverted from kingdom affairs to celebrate the return of Lancelot's memory, Arthur headed back to the council chamber that night to finish up some paperwork so it wouldn't double up on him the following morning. It was frankly easier to get things done without his advisors frequently squabbling with each other. Arthur acknowledged the importance of their input and valued it, but sometimes they didn't know when to let a matter rest.

He signed off on one of the official documents and rolled the parchment up to file away. He turned toward the cabinet and startled to find Lancelot standing in the room. Arthur hadn't even heard him come in.

"Lancelot," he greeted a tad curtly, annoyed at being caught off guard. "Did you need something?"

Lancelot didn't answer, just gazed at him with a strange, flinty intensity.

Arthur furrowed his brows. "Lancelot?"

"I remember," he said, voice as hard as his eyes. "I remember it was you who sold me to that slaver."

Arthur's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You wanted to get rid of me."

"That's absurd!" Arthur stared at his friend, gobsmacked.

Lancelot took a step forward. "There's no point in denying it. I _remember_."

"Merlin was right, we should have Gaius examine your head." That fall from his horse had clearly knocked a few things out of place.

"You told the slaver to have my memories erased. So I would be lost forever."

Arthur gaped at him. "I led the mission to come rescue you!"

"You had to in order to save face once everyone learned where I was," Lancelot countered. "But you didn't want me to get my memories back, to know what you had done."

Arthur shook his head in bewilderment. "You don't know what you're thinking," he said calmly. "We should take you to see Gaius."

He moved closer and reached out to take his friend by the arm, but Lancelot recoiled and whipped out his sword from its scabbard. Arthur backpedaled and drew his own reflexively.

"So you can have him take my memories again?" Lancelot snarled. He lunged, and Arthur threw his blade up to block.

"Lancelot! I have no idea what's gotten into you, but stop!"

The clang of steel resounded throughout the council chamber as Lancelot bore down on Arthur with ferocious intensity. Arthur was stunned by both the force of the attack and the vitriol behind it. He blocked and parried, focusing more on defending himself than going on the offensive; he didn't want to actually hurt Lancelot. Whatever was going on, this wasn't the friend he knew.

Their blades locked at the hilt and Lancelot drove Arthur back until he hit the edge of the table. The momentum bent him backward over the top with Lancelot bearing down on top of him. Arthur grunted as he tried to break free, but he was pinned.

"Lancelot, no!" Merlin's voice shouted.

Arthur caught a glimpse of his manservant standing across the room, eyes wide with horror. Lancelot straightened and whipped out a dagger. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the blade through the air, hitting Merlin in the shoulder and knocking him to the floor.

"Merlin!" Arthur surged upward, shoving Lancelot away and finally swiping his sword at the knight.

Lancelot twisted away and spun to retaliate. They exchanged a few more ringing blows before Lancelot jabbed his sword in a direct thrust. Arthur barely darted out of the way, the blade slicing across his upper arm instead. As Lancelot attempted to correct himself, Arthur spun around behind him and slammed the pommel of his sword into Lancelot's head. He went down to one knee, dazed but not beaten.

But then the guards finally burst into the chambers, swords drawn. They immediately went for the armed man at Arthur's feet and kicked his blade away before seizing him by the arms and hauling him to his feet. The Knights of the Round Table poured into the room next, pulling up short in stupefaction at the scene.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted and rushed to where Arthur's manservant still lay on the floor, unmoving.

Arthur's heart lurched into his throat.

Lancelot struggled against the guards and glowered at him spitefully, which twisted his gut further.

"Take him to the dungeon," Arthur ordered.

"What happened?" Elyan exclaimed as Lancelot was dragged away.

"I don't know," Arthur replied and rushed to Merlin's side. His eyes were screwed shut and he was moaning as he clutched at the knife embedded in his shoulder. "We need to get him to Gaius."

"Lancelot," Merlin gasped, prizing his eyes open and silently pleading with Arthur.

"I'll deal with him later," he replied firmly.

"Something…wrong…ungh!"

Arthur knew that, but he was more concerned with his idiotic manservant at the moment. He caught Gwaine's eye and nodded, the two of them silently moving to lift Merlin off the floor. A pained whimper sounded through gritted teeth, followed by a full cry as Gwaine hefted Merlin into his arms. He then headed for the doors. Arthur hurried alongside them, with the rest of the knights following suit. Arthur practically kicked in Gaius's door when he reached the physician's chambers.

"Merlin?" the old man exclaimed in alarm.

"He's got a knife in his shoulder," Gwaine reported.

"Lay him there," Gaius said urgently, pointing to the cot.

Merlin choked on another cry as Gwaine set him down.

"What happened?" Gaius demanded as he sat on a stool next to the bed and leaned over to examine the injury.

The other knights looked to Arthur, waiting for an answer to the old man's question.

"Lancelot," he said. "Lancelot attacked us."

Gaius whipped his head up, brows knitted together.

"He wouldn't," Merlin gasped out. "Something…must be…wrong."

"Yes, we'll get to that after we take care of you, my boy," Gaius shushed. His mouth thinned as he studied the wound. "I have to pull the knife out, but it will probably bleed heavily. Elyan, get me some boiling water. Percival, there's fresh bandages in the cupboard there. Gwaine, keep him still while I get the needle and thread ready."

Everyone moved to carry out Gaius's orders, and those who weren't given any tried to get out of the way. Arthur's eyes were fixed on Merlin writhing on the cot. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Gaius nudged past Arthur to retrieve some instruments, then paused to hand him a small towel. "Put pressure on that. I'll see to it once I've finished with Merlin."

Arthur mutely took the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his arm. He could just hear the echoes of his father railing about protocol and the King being more important than a servant, but Merlin's life was at stake and Arthur didn't care about himself in that moment.

Gaius retook his seat on the stool and leaned close. "Merlin, I'm going to pull the knife out. I'm afraid it won't be pleasant."

Merlin's eyes were already wet as he gave a shaky nod.

"Try to hold still. Gwaine, as soon as it's out, put as much pressure on the wound as you can."

Gwaine gave a staunch nod and took up position at Merlin's head.

Gaius took a deep breath, then gripped the hilt of the dagger and yanked it out with a squelch. Merlin screamed, back arching, but he was forced back down by Gwaine swiftly pressing a towel to his shoulder. Merlin made a few more choked sounds before finally going limp. Arthur's heart skipped a beat for a brief moment as Gaius leaned over Merlin, then straightened.

"It's alright; he's just passed out."

Arthur exhaled. It was better that way; he didn't want Merlin having to endure this.

After a few moments, Gaius signaled for Gwaine to remove the compress, and then he peeled away the sodden layers of Merlin's shirt to expose the wound. It was deep, the area where the hilt had struck bruising. Gaius set to cleaning it, then began to stitch it closed.

"Will he be all right?" Arthur finally asked.

"He'll live, provided an infection doesn't set in," Gaius replied evenly, gaze focused on his sutures. "There was damage to the muscle, though, and I won't know about the use of his arm until it begins to mend."

Arthur swallowed around a lump gathering in his throat.

"Arthur," Leon spoke up softly. "What happened?"

"I don't know. Lancelot came in and accused me of selling him to those slavers in the first place. He claimed he remembered it."

The knights exchanged disbelieving looks.

"But it's not true," Percival said.

"I know. I have no idea why Lancelot thought that, why he believed it."

"I must admit I find his story of regaining his memory after a knock to the head odd, Sire," Gaius put in as he snipped off the end of the thread.

"You think he lied?" Leon asked.

"I can't say, but his memory loss was caused by magic. That doesn't simply go away with a bump on the head."

A sickening feeling started churning in Arthur's stomach. If not a simple matter of an accident, then what _had_ returned Lancelot's memory? Or had it? Obviously, what he claimed to remember wasn't real.

Gaius finished with Merlin and came over to tend Arthur's wound. Arthur endured the cleaning and bandaging, if only to buy time to gather his thoughts before he went to question his friend turned assassin. But once that was done, Arthur left Merlin in Gaius's care and went down to the dungeon, the rest of the Round Table knights accompanying him.

Arthur gestured for the guard to open the cell. Gwaine and Percival entered first, taking up protective positions as Arthur followed. Lancelot was in chains in the back corner, and he rose slowly at their entrance, his eyes seething with hatred.

"Nice to see you all rallying around Arthur, as usual," he said to the knights disparagingly.

"Why did you attack him?" Leon asked.

Lancelot sneered and shifted his gaze to Arthur. "I told you, I know what you did. You've always wanted to get rid of me because Guinevere loved me first."

Arthur tried not to flinch at the barb, though he felt it in his heart like a well-placed dagger. He knew Gwen and Lancelot had once had feelings for each other, but she had chosen Arthur and…Lancelot had refused to stand in their way.

None of that was congruent with the man standing before them, glaring murderously.

Arthur drew in a steadying breath, mustering up his composed persona as King, rather than as the wounded friend he felt like inside. "I don't know what's happened to you, Lancelot, but you're remembering things wrong."

"That's what you would want me to think," he rejoined. "But I know the truth now. How even since the first time I came to Camelot and killed the griffin, you were jealous of me. You cast me out instead of making me a knight, as I had earned."

Arthur sputtered in incomprehension. "That's not what happened at all! I did make you a knight! I stood up to my father and demanded he allow it. You turned me down. But you're a knight now."

Lancelot scoffed. "The only reason you finally allowed me to stay was because I defeated Morgause and her immortal army, and you couldn't cover that up and claim the credit for yourself."

Arthur shook his head, unable to keep up with this wild version of fiction.

"Where did you go this afternoon?" Gwaine spoke up. "When you left the castle by yourself."

He smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"How did you get your memory back, Lancelot?" Arthur asked sharply. If they could call it that.

Lancelot lifted his chin. "Morgana."

Arthur's heart plummeted into his stomach. _No_.

The other knights glanced at each other, equally horrified.

"Morgana is an evil sorceress!" Elyan exclaimed. "She's messed with your mind, gotten you all mixed up."

"She showed me the truth," Lancelot retorted. "She gave me my memories back when Arthur refused, even though he knew magic was the only way."

Arthur could only stand there, stunned and devastated by the revelation. Morgana had caused so much harm, and now this…

"She's manipulating you!" Gwaine insisted.

Lancelot turned away, unwilling to listen to them. Morgana had gotten into his mind and warped it. The Lancelot they knew was gone. Again.

"Let's go," Arthur said quietly and turned to leave.

The others followed slowly, casting fraught looks back at their friend as they left him chained in the cell.

"What do we do now?" Percival asked.

Arthur didn't know. He didn't know how to fix this at all.

If there was even a way to…


	6. Chapter 6

The Knights of the Round Table, Gaius, Arthur, and his uncle Agravaine stood gathered in the council chambers later that night. Technically, it was early the next morning, and the castle should have been asleep, but an attack on their king had left everyone in a frenzy, even though the culprit had been apprehended. The shock of it all was still reverberating. Percival's gaze kept straying to the specks of blood left from where Merlin had been stabbed.

"He must be executed immediately for treason," Agravaine proclaimed.

"He didn't know what he was doing," Gwaine argued. "He's under Morgana's influence."

"All the more reason to execute him," Agravaine rejoined. "He's a danger to the King and Camelot."

Arthur remained silent, also staring at the spot Merlin had fallen.

"How did Morgana even get her hands on him?" Elyan asked.

"We have suspected a mole in Camelot," Gaius pointed out.

"Have you questioned him about it?" Agravaine asked.

Gwaine snorted. "He's not exactly in a cooperative mood at the moment."

"You could always torture him for the information," Agravaine said a tad too casually.

Percival stiffened at the heinous suggestion.

"We don't torture our own people," Leon countered sharply.

"He renounced all rights to the courtesies granted a knight by trying to kill the king." Agravaine turned toward Arthur. "Sire, I understand this is difficult to accept, but Lancelot is a threat and must be dealt with swiftly."

"Enough," Arthur snapped, finally looking up. "Lancelot is a victim here. I am not passing sentence on him, not until we've at least tried to find a way to fix this." He cast a beseeching look at Gaius.

The court physician's expression was grave. "I'm afraid I don't have any answers, Sire. It was complicated enough trying to find a way to reverse the initial spell that stole his memories. Now there is a second curse that filled him with false ones." Gaius shook his head regretfully. "The first spell is likely what made him vulnerable to this kind of manipulation from Morgana."

They all fell silent at that, a dour pall hanging in the air. Percival hadn't said anything thus far, and they weren't getting anywhere anyway, so he quietly slipped out of the room and made his way back down to the dungeon. He'd known Lancelot longer than the rest of the knights had, had come to Camelot because of him.

He took the key from the guard and let himself into the cell, then simply stood there, staring at Lancelot. Lancelot stared back for a long while before breaking first and scowling.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know if my friend is in there somewhere. Surely not all the memories Morgana gave you are lies."

Lancelot let out a derisive snort. "Friends. Yes, we were friends once, but clearly you've chosen Arthur over me." He shook his shackled arms as evidence.

"I would never choose him over you," Percival said.

Yes, he had pledged fealty to Arthur, but he had bound himself to Lancelot as well. And never had it crossed his mind those two things could ever be at odds, because both were honorable men. Lancelot and Percival had sworn to serve Arthur together.

"I followed you to Camelot," he went on. "I'm only a knight because of you."

"You're welcome," Lancelot said scornfully.

Percival gazed back at him sadly. Was there not a shred of the man he once knew still there? It was bad enough when Lancelot hadn't remembered them at all, but this?

"What about Merlin?" Percival asked.

"What about him?"

"You're not even going to ask how he is? Is he not your friend anymore either?"

Lancelot shrugged blithely. "He's Arthur's manservant; he was collateral damage."

"What about how much he looked after you when we brought you back from the slave camp?" Percival pressed. "Do you think that was an act too? That he isn't genuinely your friend?"

"Merlin tries to be everyone's friend, but in the end he will always put Arthur above anyone else."

Percival's jaw tightened. "Do you remember how we met?" he tried next.

Lancelot rolled his eyes, but then his brow pinched slightly like he was thinking. After a moment, he shook it off. "No. It doesn't matter now. You've made your choice."

He turned his back to Percival, retreating into the dark corner of his prison cell. Percival waited a beat longer before leaving.

He went back up to the council chambers. Everyone was still there, discussing, debating, ranting over the issue. They probably hadn't even noticed Percival's absence. At one point, Gaius excused himself to check on Merlin, and Arthur declared they were done for the night. Agravaine left in a huff, while the knights lingered. Sleep would be hard to come by for what little remained of the night.

"Morgana only gave Lancelot the memories she wanted," Percival spoke up before the others started to leave. "Enough to poison him against us. But there are gaps, missing pieces she couldn't fill. Maybe if we poke enough holes in those gaps, we can convince him he's been put under a spell and deceived."

"There was a lot of hate there," Arthur said numbly.

"We have to try, though," Elyan insisted.

The others nodded in fervent agreement.

"Alright," Arthur said. "Just…Morgana is cruel. Anything he says is probably her words, but…"

Percival nodded sagely. "He will try to hurt us."

"It's not him," Gwaine said staunchly. "We just have to remember that."

They shared a round of more sobered nods at that. Percival knew it was true, but he also knew how hard it was going to be to face their friend, to see the hate in his once kind eyes and hear the spiteful barbs in his voice. He could only hope they all had the fortitude to get through this intact.

.o.0.o.

Merlin woke to fire in his shoulder. He was only half lucid and tried to shift away from the source of his torment, but that only ignited it further. A pained moan escaped his lips as he fell still, focusing on breathing instead.

"Merlin?" Gwen's worried voice broke through the haze of agony.

He mumbled something, he wasn't sure what, as he clawed his way to full consciousness. He was lying on something not too hard, not too soft. It definitely wasn't his bed. But he recognized the curves in Gaius's ceiling and the tops of the medicine shelves in his peripheral vision. The soft gray light of morning was suffusing through the windows.

Gwen's face appeared above him. "Merlin? How are you feeling?"

Like he'd been stabbed…memory slammed into him with such force that it punched the air from his lungs. "Lancelot!" he gasped.

Gwen's expression was pinched with fraught emotion. "He's in the dungeon."

Merlin shook his head against the pillow. "No, something's wrong. Lancelot would never…"

Gwen put a hand on his arm and shushed him. "We know." Her eyes swam with devastation. "It seems he fell into Morgana's hands and instead of restoring his memory, she filled him with a bunch of false ones. Made him believe all kinds of horrible things about Arthur."

Merlin gaped at her in horrified stupefaction. _Morgana?_

"How…?" he stammered.

"We don't know."

Merlin couldn't believe it. Once again, Morgana had found a way to cause the most damage possible, and in the cruelest fashion.

He tried to push himself up off the cot, mumbling, "I have to fix this." But pain lanced down his arm and torso and he couldn't keep from crying out as he folded in on himself.

Gwen grabbed his uninjured shoulder and gently pushed him back down. "You need to rest. There's nothing you can do against magic anyway."

He would argue if he could, but the truth was now with this complication, he didn't know what he could possibly do to rectify things. He had to try, though. He had to do something…

He gritted his teeth and whimpered as another wave of pain radiated throughout his body. A damp cloth touched his brow, but it did little to alleviate the fire.

He heard the door open and Gwen say Gaius's name.

"He's awake but in a lot of pain."

"Merlin?"

He forced his eyes open as Gaius took the seat Gwen had occupied. "Gaius…"

"I'll get you something for the pain," he promised, even though that hadn't really been what Merlin wanted to say. "First let me check the wound."

Merlin sucked in a sharp breath as Gaius jostled his shoulder unwrapping the bandage. He tried to breathe through the pain so he could see for himself. The line of stitches was dark against his pale skin, but it didn't look angry red from what he could see.

"No signs of infection," Gaius said. "You're very lucky, my boy."

Lucky he'd walked in on Lancelot and gotten stabbed instead of Arthur.

"Do you need anything, Gaius?" Gwen asked, her hands wringing in her skirts.

"Some bread from the kitchens if you don't mind," he replied. "I have some stew from last night."

She nodded and quickly left, eager to do something to help.

Merlin waited until she had gone to try sitting up again. "Gaius, we have to do something."

Gaius went to his shelf of medicinal vials and began sifting among them. " _You_ are going to rest."

"We can't lose Lancelot like this!"

Gaius sighed, shoulders slumping. "It doesn't look good, Merlin. Two curses on top of each other…"

"There has to be something," he insisted.

Gaius diluted one of his pain draughts with some water and brought the cup over. "I will do my best, I promise. But you are in no condition to do anything other than lie still and not pull those stitches."

Merlin took the cup and knocked back its contents. "I just need to dull the pain a little, then I can help you look through magic books."

Gaius took the cup back and just gave him a level look. The bitter taste hit the back of Merlin's throat a few seconds too late, and he shot Gaius a hurt look of betrayal.

"Lancelot isn't going anywhere," Gaius said as he helped guide Merlin back down on the cot and covered him with a blanket.

Merlin's eyelids felt like lead as they drooped. "We can't leave him like this," he murmured before the sleeping potion took hold and he drifted away.

The next time he woke, it was dark outside. A fire in the hearth and lit candelabras illuminated the room. Merlin grumbled in aggravation at Gaius, who was nowhere in sight. Wincing as he sat up, he startled to find Arthur sitting by his bedside instead.

"Arthur! Are you okay? Were you hurt?" He didn't remember seeing Arthur gravely wounded, but everything after discovering him and Lancelot fighting was a bit hazy.

Arthur was sitting with a bowed posture, looking despondent and defeated, but he shook his head with a flicker of fond exasperation at Merlin's questions. "I'm not the one who got impaled by a knife."

"And I'm not as breakable as everyone thinks I am," he grunted as he shifted upright. Unlike Gaius or Gwen, Arthur didn't try to stop him. "Lancelot?"

Arthur's expression morphed into a controlled mask, but Merlin could see past it. "Still in the dungeon." He glanced away for a moment, that careful composure momentarily slipping. "Agravaine says he should be executed."

"You can't!" Merlin blurted.

"I don't _want_ to. But the fact is that right now, Lancelot wants nothing more than to kill me. What am I supposed to do? Keep him locked up forever? Banish him?" Arthur shook his head. "Become the monster Morgana's convinced him I am?"

"Give Gaius more time to find a way to reverse this," Merlin begged. "I know how you distrust magic, but there has to be a way to save him. Please."

Arthur sighed. "I will give Gaius as much time as he needs, but…he's not exactly confident, Merlin."

A spiky lump threatened to cut off Merlin's air. That was because Gaius was only a dabbling practitioner at times. He wasn't Merlin, a natural born warlock. Merlin would find something.

"The other knights have been taking turns, trying to get through to Lancelot," Arthur went on. "See if there's a part of him deep down they can reach."

Merlin took in Arthur's dispirited demeanor. "And how's that going?" he hesitantly asked.

Arthur just gave him a grim look. "Get some rest," he said, patting Merlin's knee, then got up and left.


	7. Chapter 7

"Lancelot, please, you must listen to us," Gwen pleaded.

The door to his cell was open but she remained standing on the threshold, per her brother's request. Elyan stood just inside, his angled posture obviously protective, even though Lancelot was in chains and couldn't possibly reach far enough to do any physical harm. Not that Gwen believed he would do anything like that to her.

But then, she would have never believed he could have hurt Merlin, either.

"Morgana is a liar," she went on. "An evil witch."

Lancelot snorted. "Oh yes, I know all about how Arthur cast her out for her magic. He painted her the villain because the throne is rightfully hers."

Gwen shook her head in fraught disbelief. "She used her magic to take over Camelot, created an immortal army to do it. She _is_ evil."

"You're just jealous because Morgana is a queen and you never will be, no matter how much you pine for Arthur."

"Hey," Elyan barked in warning.

Gwen flinched at the cruel barb. Her chest tightened, making her feel like she couldn't draw in enough air. She had experienced a broken heart before, but this was crushing. There was nothing of the gentle, kind, noble man she'd once loved. He had been poisoned by Morgana, and nothing they said could get through to him. The devastating truth was Lancelot was lost to them.

Elyan stepped in front of Gwen, blocking her view of Lancelot and nudging her backward. He closed the cell door behind him and locked it. Then he gave the key back to the guard and slipped an arm around Gwen's shoulders to lead her out of the dungeon.

She kept it together until they were out of earshot of the cell, but then a broken sob finally burst free. Elyan drew to a stop and wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey, shh," he soothed.

"I hate seeing him like this," she choked out.

Elyan rubbed a hand up and down her back. "We all do."

Her breath hitched painfully. "Arthur won't have a choice, will he? He'll have to sentence Lancelot to death."

Elyan didn't respond for a moment. "I don't know," he whispered.

Gwen buried her face in her brother's shirt and wept.

.o.0.o.

It took longer than Merlin would have liked to have the strength to get out of bed, and even longer before he finally had an opportunity to sneak out of Gaius's chambers and away from the castle. His shoulder throbbed mercilessly, the sling doing little to cushion the pain from each lumbering footstep in the dark. But he was determined to find a way to fix things, and there was only one being left who could help him with that.

He staggered through the woodland outside the citadel, calling upon the Great Dragon as he went. Though ragged and breathless, he was still able to put his power as a dragon lord behind his voice. By the time he finally reached the clearing, Kilgharrah was swooping in to land.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed. "What on earth has happened to you?"

"Long story," he panted. But it was one he had to tell in full, so he proceeded to recount everything that had happened since the day Lancelot had first gone missing.

"This is most grievous indeed," Kilgharrah lamented. "The most noble knight to ever live corrupted by the witch. She has changed his destiny."

"What can be done to fix it?" Merlin asked earnestly.

The dragon canted his head down at Merlin thoughtfully. "You say you found the spell that stole his memory in the first place? You could cast it again, erase everything the witch has done."

Right, of course, why hadn't Merlin thought of that?

"But—" Kilgharrah continued. "It would mean Lancelot's original memories would be lost forever."

Merlin's blood ran cold. "I can't do that. There must be another way to undo Morgana's magic _and_ restore him."

Kilgharrah hummed ruminatively. "There is, but it is very dangerous."

"I'll do it."

"Take care, young warlock. Your destiny lies with Arthur and Albion. Lancelot's fate is tragic but he is merely a piece in the greater plan."

"We're all pieces in this great plan!" Merlin retorted. "If you've taught me anything, it's that. And I will not sacrifice my friends for it."

Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes dangerously for a split moment before shaking the expression away. "Very well. There is a way to walk the paths of Lancelot's mind, to undo the web of lies Morgana has woven, and perhaps even unlock the true memories buried deep within."

"How?"

"There is a place, a mystical crossroads between the realms of the physical and spiritual. Take Sir Lancelot there. A guide will show you how to access those dream paths." Kilgharrah gave him directions to this mystical place.

Merlin nodded. "Thank you."

"Be careful, Merlin," the dragon warned as he turned to leave.

He simply nodded again. It didn't matter how dangerous it was, he was going to try.

Merlin headed back to the castle at a much slower pace than when he'd headed out. What little strength he'd regained had rapidly waned, and his shoulder was screaming at him. Carrying out this plan he now had was going to be difficult. There was no way he was going to be able to get Lancelot out of the castle on his own. Gaius would no doubt be willing to go along with it, but he wouldn't be able to keep a volatile Lancelot under control. And while Merlin hated to think of his friend as dangerous, the burning ache in his shoulder reminded him how much Lancelot was not himself.

No, Merlin was going to need help, strong help. There wasn't a single person among the Knights of the Round Table who didn't want to see their friend restored, but they were also loyal to Arthur—a good thing, of course—but Merlin couldn't risk him finding out. There was one of them, however, who wouldn't have a problem keeping secrets from the King…

At this time of night, Merlin decided to check the tavern first. It was on his way back through the lower town anyway. Sure enough, he found Gwaine sitting in a corner nursing a mug of ale in stark contrast to his usual jocular manner when out for a night of carousing.

Merlin made his way over and slid into the chair across from him.

"Merlin," Gwaine exclaimed in surprise. "Bloody hell, what are you doing here? You should be resting."

"I have a plan to get Lancelot back but I need your help."

Gwaine's jaw dropped a fraction. "You do?"

"Yes," he said seriously. He cast a look around the tavern and then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "But it involves magic."

"Mm-hm. I suppose you're here telling me because Arthur can't know."

"I honestly don't know what he'd think," Merlin admitted. "And I don't want to waste time arguing about it."

Gwaine eyed him shrewdly. "And what does this plan entail?"

Merlin grimaced. "We'd have to break Lancelot out of the dungeons and take him into the forest to a mystical place where both curses can be undone. Possibly be undone," he amended.

"Right." Gwaine leaned back in his chair and exhaled loudly. "You sure you're in any condition to do this?"

"The longer we wait, the worse it is. And I frankly don't want to risk Morgana getting a hold of him again." He gave Gwaine a sheepish half smile. "If my shoulder wasn't messed up, I probably would be doing this on my own."

"Yeah, that's a brilliant idea." He shook his head and leaned close again. "Alright, when do we leave?"

"Tonight. How drunk are you?"

Gwaine scoffed and shoved his tankard aside. "I can handle it. I just hope you're right about this."

"So do I," Merlin said soberly. "But what other options do we have?"

Gwaine canted his head in concession at that and stood up. They left the tavern and returned to the citadel where they went to the stables and got three horses ready for travel, then left them tethered out near the back gate that was closest to the dungeons. They headed down to the cells together, and Gwaine casually dismissed the guards after telling them to hand over the keys. The knights had been down there often enough to speak with Lancelot that the guards didn't question it.

Merlin followed Gwaine down the aisle to the last cell and waited as he unlocked the door and opened it. The figure sitting in the corner was shrouded in shadow, the barest reach of torchlight illuminating his profile. He lolled his head toward them, face coming into the light, and looked up at them blandly. Merlin had only gotten a glimpse of Lancelot attacking Arthur and hadn't seen him since, and he felt a chill at the cold glare in his friend's eyes.

"Get up," Gwaine said curtly.

Lancelot pushed himself to his feet. "Come to tell me more pathetic lies?"

"No lies," Gwaine said. He then threw a punch so hard that Lancelot's head snapped to the side and he instantly crumpled.

Merlin winced at that but knew it was necessary. Gwaine unlocked the chains and bound Lancelot's wrists with rope, just to be safe, then wrapped him in a cloak and slung him over his shoulder. They closed the cell door behind them and then hastened out of the dungeon. Merlin's heart pounded with the fear that they would be discovered, but they made it outside without anyone spotting them or sounding the alarm.

Gwaine tossed Lancelot over one of the horse's backs and tied him to the saddle. He then came around to help Merlin mount up, a feat that almost tore a cry from Merlin's throat, then climbed up on his steed last. Then they headed out into the night.

They rode at an urgent pace for a short bit, at least until they were far enough away from the castle. Merlin was panting when Gwaine pulled them up short and dismounted to check on Lancelot. The knight was still unconscious, and Gwaine used the moment to lash his legs together as well. When he was done, he walked by Merlin and placed a hand on his leg.

"You all right?"

Merlin nodded jerkily. "I'll be fine," he insisted.

"How about you tell me where this mystical place is and I take Lancelot the rest of the way," Gwaine suggested.

Merlin shook his head firmly. "I'm not sure what exactly is involved there, but I was warned it could be dangerous."

"All the more reason I take it from here."

" _Gwaine_." Merlin huffed. "We're doing this together."

His friend sighed. "Fine. I hope you know what you're doing."

Yeah, so did he.

A twig snapped somewhere and Gwaine's hand went to his sword. Merlin's heart lurched when Leon stepped out from behind some bushes.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked nonchalantly.

Merlin's gaze flicked to Lancelot, wondering if Leon hadn't noticed him yet. But then why else was he out here this late?

Leaves rustled, and Percival and Elyan revealed themselves next, all decked out in their armor.

Merlin's palms grew sweaty as his pulse raced. "Please, you have to listen, we—"

"Have a plan to help Lancelot?" Percival interrupted.

Merlin's mouth moved soundlessly, and he nodded mutely, unable to deny it.

"Then we're coming too," Elyan declared.

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"Did you really think we wouldn't help?" Percival said.

Merlin grimaced abashedly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to get you in trouble with Arthur."

"Me, he doesn't mind getting in trouble," Gwaine muttered, pointing to himself glibly.

"Then it's a good thing Arthur knows all about it," another voice spoke up.

Merlin froze as Arthur himself stepped out from behind a tree. He shot a panicked look at Gwaine, but none of the other knights seemed surprised.

"Did you think I wouldn't want to help Lancelot?" Arthur asked, sounding almost hurt.

"Of course not!" Merlin blurted. "It's just…it'll involve a little bit of magic."

He nodded sagely. "Magic started all this; I figured it would require magic to fix it. What exactly is your plan?"

"I heard about a place where we'll be able to go into Lancelot's mind, try to undo the curses from within."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "That sounds a little thin."

"We have nothing else," he pointed out.

Arthur glanced at their unconscious friend grimly and nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

The knights went back into the trees to retrieve their horses, and Merlin shared a relieved look with Gwaine. Guess they were all doing this together.


	8. Chapter 8

Merlin was ready to fall out of his saddle when they finally reached the spot Kilgharrah had told him about the following morning. There was a cave opening in the cleft of a ridge, narrow and unassuming with boughs of branches concealing half of it.

"You're sure this is it?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"Yes."

Merlin gripped the rim of the saddle with his good hand and carefully swung one leg around. It was going to be awkward dismounting, but then hands reached up to brace his back, catching him in his clumsy descent. He nodded his thanks to Elyan.

Gwaine and Percival had gone to untie Lancelot, who was still knocked out from Gwaine's punch. Then they all ventured inside.

The cave was full of crystal blue stalactites that suffused the enclosed space with a reflective cerulean hue. Merlin could feel the subtle magic resonating in the air.

They reached the back of the cave and drew to a stop.

"What now?" Arthur asked, looking around.

An old man in a hemp robe stepped out from behind some rocks, seemingly out of nowhere. "What is it that you seek?" he asked calmly.

The knights reflexively put their hands on their swords.

Merlin stepped forward quickly. "We seek to free our friend from false memories." He gestured to Lancelot hanging unconscious between Gwaine and Percival. "We heard we could reach his mind through the magic in this place."

"That is so, but it is a dangerous path to walk."

Merlin lifted his chin. "I'm prepared."

The guardian raised an arm and pointed to a raised stone slab. "Lay your friend there. For those who wish to travel the paths of the spirits, step up to the altar beneath the bridge." He angled his arm up, pointing next to a crown of stalactites in the ceiling above the slab. The air wobbled as though the fabric between realms was, in fact, permeable in this place.

The knights exchanged wary looks, but Merlin gave them a resolute nod, and Gwaine and Percival carried Lancelot over and laid him on the stone.

Merlin stepped up to the altar. "No matter what happens, don't interfere," he warned the others.

"Hang on," Arthur interrupted. "What makes you think you're doing this?"

"It was my idea. I'll assume the risks."

"You can barely stay on your feet."

"I'm not going anywhere physically," he countered.

"I agreed to help you all the way," Gwaine put in. "Which means I'm coming too."

"And me," Percival said, stepping up to the edge of the altar.

"There's no way I'm letting you go in alone," Arthur added. "You'd probably just get lost."

Merlin rolled his eyes, though he was also touched by everyone's devotion, not only to him but Lancelot as well.

"Can we all go?" Elyan asked, turning to the mystical guide.

The man merely held his arm out toward the altar in invitation.

"The two of you should stay here and stand guard," Arthur said to Elyan and Leon. "No offense," he added to the guardian.

The two knights nodded grudgingly, hanging back while the rest of them gathered around Lancelot.

"Now what?" Arthur asked a tad impatiently.

Merlin could feel the subtle vibrations on the air, and he followed a subconscious prompting to close his eyes. His skin tingled with the sensation of the magic activating.

He snapped his eyes open and found himself standing in a dark void of nothingness. The surface beneath his feet gleamed like black glass, stretching as far as the eye could see. Merlin glanced down at his arm, which was still in its sling. He tentatively tested it, only to wince when his shoulder gave a pang. Guess his physical injury had followed him into this intangible place. He turned in a slow circle; it was the same in every direction. When he came back to his starting position, Arthur, Gwaine, and Percival were suddenly with him, looking around in equal confusion.

"Uh, this is Lancelot's mind?" Gwaine said.

"I don't know…" Merlin cast his gaze around again. Their friend was nowhere to be seen. "Lancelot!"

"Lancelot!" Percival echoed.

"Should've gotten better directions," Gwaine muttered as nothing happened.

"Lancelot!" Merlin yelled.

Lancelot suddenly appeared a few feet away. He staggered for a moment, throwing his arms out for balance as he looked around in confusion. When his eyes landed on them, they flashed with fury.

"What is this? What have you done?" he demanded. His hand went for a sword that wasn't there.

Merlin realized none of the other knights were armed either. Looked like those things didn't follow them into the aether.

"We're trying to help you," Merlin said earnestly. He wasn't sure exactly how to go about that, only that he wanted Lancelot to see how desperately they had searched for him when he was missing, how much Arthur really did care about him.

The surrounding blackness began to waver as it was replaced with a facsimile of the castle, and Merlin saw a mirror image of him and Arthur in the King's chambers.

"Whoa," Gwaine murmured.

_"Anything?" the other Merlin asked._

_Arthur sat at the table, fist pressed against his mouth as he stared at a map. "No. We've covered half the kingdom and there's no sign of him." He shook his head and leaned over the table, expression clearly frustrated. "I'll double the patrols in the morning. The woods here are dense; they might have missed him the first time around."_

Lancelot snorted derisively. "You knew I wasn't there. You were just pretending so you could save face."

"Why would I be here like this if that were true?" the real Arthur snapped angrily. "You didn't think I'd be willing to use magic to help you, so tell me what are we doing now?" He gestured sharply at their surroundings, which began to melt back into blackness.

"Morgana lied to you, mate," Gwaine said.

Percival stepped forward. "Don't you remember?"

The void swirled again, this time coalescing into a forest and two bedraggled looking men sitting around a campfire.

_"Camelot, huh?" Percival asked._

_Lancelot nodded, fingering the letter in his hands. "My friends are in trouble. I have to go."_

_Percival shrugged. "Well, I'll go with you."_

_"It sounds like it'll be dangerous," Lancelot cautioned. "Two sorceresses and an army that can't be killed."_

_Percival pursed his mouth contemplatively. "Sounds exciting."_

_Lancelot grinned._

The memory jumped ahead to the two of them coming to Arthur's rescue in the woods, of their planning to retake Camelot, of standing around the round table and Arthur knighting them all, even though they were commoners.

_"Here! Come and join me. This table belonged to the ancient kings of Camelot. A round table afforded no one man more importance than any other. They believed in equality in all things. So, it seems fitting that we revive this tradition now. Without each of you, we would not be here. My father has languished in prison for too long. Tomorrow, I make my bid to rescue him. Are there any around this table who will join me?"_

_Lancelot spoke first. "You taught me the values of being a knight, the code by which a man should live his life. To fight with honor for justice, freedom, and all that's good. I believe in the world that you will build."_

The memories played out as though happening for real, the perspectives shifting as each one of them contributed to the picture. Merlin realized he had to be very careful not to let the bits that included him discussing or using magic show through. They showed Lancelot Morgana's role in the coup, how she had wielded the immortal army and how Lancelot and Merlin had fought side by side to stop her.

Merlin cut off the memories before they could reveal too much to the others witnessing it as well. "See? Morgana is evil. She's twisted your mind with lies."

"Or that's what you're doing," Lancelot retorted.

"Why would we do that?" Gwaine countered, and the scenery shifted to a time the knights had gone carousing in the tavern. The images were a little fuzzy, coming from Gwaine's drunken point of view. But it showed Lancelot and Leon carrying him home after he'd gotten too sloshed and tried to start a brawl. Lancelot was shaking his head in almost fond exasperation.

"See?" Gwaine pressed. "We _are_ friends."

"That doesn't change what Arthur did. He'd cast me out twice before all this."

"That is not what happened!" Arthur exclaimed.

The images warped and spiraled into that of Arthur and his father, Uther, arguing.

_"I confess it, Sire. I released him and I'll take the consequences. But surely Lancelot's actions change things?"_

_"His actions change nothing. He broke the code!"_

_"He laid down his life for me! He served with honor."_

_Uther faltered at his son's fervency."I see you feel strongly about this, Arthur." He turned away for a moment in contemplation. "Under the circumstances, a pardon, perhaps."_

_"No, not good enough, Father!" he exclaimed. "You must restore Lancelot to his rightful place, as a knight of Camelot."_

_"Never. The law is the law. The code bends for no man."_

_"Then the code is wrong!"_

_Lancelot burst through the doors, only to be restrained by the guards. "Let me speak!" he insisted._

_"Wait!" Uther said, waving the guards off. "I'll hear him."_

_"Forgive me, Sire. I've come to bid you farewell."_

_Arthur quirked a confused brow at him. "What is this, Lancelot?"_

_"I lied to you both and now there is conflict between you. I cannot bear that burden, as you should not bear mine." Lancelot took a steadying breath. "I must start again, far from here. Then maybe one day fate shall grant me another chance to prove myself a worthy knight of Camelot."_

_"But…Lancelot…you've already proved that to us."_

_"But I must prove it to myself."_

_He bowed to Uther, then Arthur, and left. Arthur stared after him, looking crestfallen._

"That's what happened," Arthur said earnestly.

Lancelot shook his head. "No…"

Merlin summoned up the memories of when they'd rescued Gwen from Hengist. He hated to betray Lancelot's confidence by revealing the conversation they'd shared in private, but Lancelot needed to see the truth.

_Merlin sat down on a rock next to where Lancelot was standing guard._

_"Is it true that Arthur came to rescue Gwen because…'Morgana begged him'?" Lancelot asked._

_Merlin hesitated, gaze dropping to the ground when he didn't want to answer._

_Lancelot nodded in understanding. "He has feelings for her, doesn't he?"_

_Again, Merlin didn't answer him. "What about you?" he said instead. "Do you have feelings for Gwen?"_

_"My feelings do not matter. I will not come between them."_

_Merlin didn't have anything to say to that._

_Lancelot glanced back toward the camp. "Tell Gwen…" He paused to quash a welling up of emotion. "Tell Gwen that she has changed me forever, but some things cannot be."_

_And then Lancelot slipped away without saying goodbye._

"That's the kind of man you are," Merlin said. "Honorable, selfless."

"Stop!" Lancelot screamed. He shot his hands up to clutch at his head, and the placid blackness suddenly began to turn into a broiling storm. "Liars!"

Lavender lightning forked overhead and a gust whipped up around them. Merlin felt magic crackling in the atmosphere, and he got the feeling this was that very dangerous bit they'd been warned about. Lightning branched down and struck the ground with a concussive whomp that knocked Merlin and the others off their feet.

"Lancelot, stop!" he begged.

The scenery swirled around them, a maelstrom of memories and incidents that never happened. Arthur's cold, jealous glowers. The knights mocking and shunning Lancelot. Cruel pranks and blatant sabotage. Gwen leading him on before casting him aside. The images flashed all around them in quick succession, a relentless bombardment of Morgana's lies.

Merlin lurched to his feet and staggered forward. He tore off his sling and grabbed Lancelot by both arms. With a surge of his own magic, Merlin pushed a cascade of his own memories into Lancelot, trying to beat back the false ones.

The tempest flared and roared around them, a clash of images in stark contrast with each other. Merlin focused all his energy on feeding the good ones, the real ones. Of his and Lancelot's friendship, the times they'd laughed and teased each other, of fighting side by side together. He poured every ounce of love he felt for his friend into the air.

Lancelot's face was screwed up in pain, overwhelmed by the conflicting memories. Merlin's shoulder was burning, and the rest of him was buckling under the strain, but he refused to let go. He would not let Morgana win.

Then lightning split the obsidian sky and arced down, striking him and Lancelot in an explosion of white.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur struggled to hold his ground against the battering gales. He had no idea what was happening or what to do to stop it, could only watch helplessly as Merlin and Lancelot grappled in the midst of the maelstrom. And then lightning lashed down and struck them both with a cracking intensity that burst outward. Arthur felt the shockwave slam into him, throwing him to the ground as well. But in the immediate aftermath, the swirling array of mixed memories dissipated like smoke, and they were in calm, pitch blackness once more.

Arthur staggered to his feet and ran to Merlin, dropping down beside him and grasping at his shoulders to see if he was still alive, though he didn't know what alive meant when they weren't really in their physical bodies. Gwaine was right behind him, while Percival crouched next to Lancelot, turning the unconscious knight's head toward him.

Arthur cast his gaze around helplessly. How were they supposed to get out of this place if things went wrong?

Merlin moaned, his face scrunching up.

"Merlin." Arthur squeezed his shoulder and gave him a light shake. "Are you all right? Say something."

" _Ow_." His eyelids fluttered open and he squinted up at them.

Arthur huffed in irritated relief. "You idiot." He hauled Merlin upright, bracing his shoulder when he swayed.

"Lancelot!" he suddenly blurted and twisted toward the unconscious knight.

Lancelot looked to be coming around as well, lolling his head to the side and making a muffled sound. Arthur braced for their friend's hostility. But when Lancelot's eyes opened, he merely blinked at them all in confusion.

"Where…" He jerked his gaze at the black sky and surrounding nothingness, then jerked upright and scooted away from them. "What is this place? Who are you?"

Arthur gaped at him in disbelief. "You don't remember?"

"No…" Lancelot looked frightened as he wildly roved his eyes around. "Who are you?" he asked again. "Who…who am I?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Gwaine muttered.

"No, this is good," Merlin exclaimed. "We must have broken the hold Morgana's false memories had on him."

"Sure, that's all well and good, but what now?" Gwaine huffed. "Wasn't coming here supposed to fix everything?"

"We still have to undo the first curse, the one that stole his memories in the first place," Merlin reminded them.

"Okay, _how_?"

"Will someone tell me what is going on?" Lancelot exclaimed.

"We're your friends," Percival assured him. "I'm Percival. That's Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin. Your name is Lancelot."

"You lost your memories, but we're trying to get them back," Merlin added.

"Trying to get them back," Lancelot repeated and looked around again. "What is this place?"

"Well, you'll probably find this hard to believe, but we're sort of in your head," Merlin replied. "You see, it was a magic spell that caused you to lose your memories in the first place, so we're trying to use magic to bring them back."

Lancelot gaped at them like they were insane. Arthur didn't blame him.

"I know it's a lot to take in," he said. "But we are here to help you. You just have to trust us."

Lancelot regarded Arthur for a long moment before slowly nodding. "Alright."

It almost hurt, having that implicit trust again after all of Morgana's poisoned hate. Now Arthur just hoped they could restore Lancelot the rest of the way.

"So, Merlin," he said as he helped pull his manservant to his feet. "Any idea on how we undo the first curse?"

"You're asking me?"

"This whole crazy plan _was_ your idea."

Merlin rolled his eyes, then winced and rubbed at his shoulder.

"You all right?" Gwaine asked in concern as the rest of them got to their feet as well.

"Fine," he said quickly. "It's not actually injured here, just…an echo of it, I guess." He waved his other hand dismissively. "Okay, Lancelot's memories can't just be gone," he reasoned aloud. "Just…locked away. So all we have to do is find where that is and unlock them."

"Oh, is that all?" Gwaine snorted.

Arthur roved his gaze around the endless emptiness. "I don't know about that one, Merlin."

"We have to try," he insisted. He turned one direction, paused, then adjusted to go another way. Not that it mattered, from what Arthur could tell. But he supposed they really didn't have a choice.

The five of them began wandering around the nondescript landscape. But even though Arthur could feel the solid ground beneath his feet, nothing changed. How did they know they weren't just walking in place with a sphere of darkness rotating around them? He found it rather creepy.

"This is…my mind?" Lancelot asked dubiously, also looking unsettled by it.

"Well, you don't have any memories, right?" Merlin replied. "So it makes sense it would look…blank."

Lancelot shook his head. "Or maybe I've gone mad. Maybe you're not even real."

"We're real," Arthur said, then muttered, "But maybe we've gone mad too."

"How- how did I lose my memories? You mentioned magic?"

"You were kidnapped by slavers who liked to use a sorcerer to erase the minds of their slaves," Gwaine explained.

Lancelot pulled up short in horror.

Percival paused to reach out and gently take his arm, coaxing him forward again. "We found you."

"And we're going to fix it," Merlin added resolutely, still leading the way into nowhere.

Arthur sighed as they continued to follow him.

They walked a bit further, though it was impossible to tell how far they had gone, or whether they were going in circles. Lancelot started to stumble and threw his arms out for balance as he blinked rapidly.

"I feel strange…"

Arthur and Percival automatically took him by the arms to support him.

"Uh, me too," Gwaine spoke up.

Arthur looked over to find him with a woozy expression on his face. Percival exhaled audibly and bowed forward to put on hand on his knee. Then Arthur felt it, a sudden lightness all throughout his body, making him slightly dizzy. He staggered, unable to feel the surface beneath his feet, like he could float away.

Merlin's eyes widened in alarm. "Back, go back!" he urged.

Arthur's feet moved clumsily as Merlin ushered them all back the way they'd come. Soon the lightheadedness faded and he was feeling better. The others, also, were walking straighter when they stopped for a rest.

"What was that?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin looked freaked out. "We're in the crossroads of the physical and spiritual, remember? So, part of the danger is probably that we could simply…stray too far outside of our own bodies."

Percival frowned. "And what would that mean?"

"Uh, probably that we'd become spirits. Or die. Or both." He cast his gaze around frantically, though it wasn't like there were any clear boundaries marked anywhere.

Arthur exchanged a look of horror with his knights. "You failed to mention that, Merlin!"

"It's only a guess!" he rejoined. "And I told you not to come with me."

Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation. "So we could spend forever wandering around this place, and then maybe accidentally wander right out of our bodies?"

Merlin shrugged helplessly.

"Can you wake up?" Lancelot said quietly. "Leave now and return to your bodies?"

Merlin shook his head staunchly. "No, I'm not leaving until we save you."

"Please, I'm not worth the risk. Save yourselves while you still can."

Arthur's jaw tightened. Of course Lancelot even without his memories would still be selfless and self-sacrificing.

He sighed and clapped his knight on the shoulder. "You are worth it, Lancelot. You're our friend." He turned to Merlin next. "But I think we need a better plan than wandering around aimlessly."

Merlin pursed his mouth in thought, then turned to Lancelot. "This is your mind, so even though your memories are buried, you still have some kind of connection to them. Try to concentrate and see if you can sense something."

Lancelot gave him a dubious look but nevertheless closed his eyes, his brows knitting together in concentration. The rest of them stood around silently, watching, waiting. It didn't look like it was working, though, and Arthur was getting the sinking feeling that he would have to make a decision soon.

Lancelot slowly canted his head, face scrunching up further, then he lifted his arm and pointed into the darkness. "I…maybe feel something that way?"

"You're not sure?" Gwaine pressed.

"Doesn't matter," Merlin interrupted. "It's good enough for me." He started off in that direction, leaving the rest of them no choice but to follow.

"I really don't want you getting hurt because of me," Lancelot said.

"You've laid down your life for us plenty of times," Percival replied. "I'm happy to return the favor."

Lancelot didn't look mollified, and Arthur wasn't going to point out that they didn't exactly know how to get themselves out of here anyway, so they might as well keep pressing on.

"Look!" Merlin suddenly exclaimed and broke into a jog.

They hurried after him, toward a closed door that seemed to be standing in the middle of the void. There was nothing on either side of it, but it was covered in heavy chains and locks.

"This is it!" Merlin said excitedly.

"Kind of literal," Gwaine commented as he walked around the erect slab of wood.

Merlin grabbed hold of the chains and yanked, but all they did was rattle in response. He slammed his palm angrily against the door, then turned to Lancelot urgently. "You try."

Lancelot stepped forward and tentatively reached out to grasp the chains, but he yanked his hand back with a startled yelp.

"What happened?" Percival exclaimed, moving to his side.

"It burned."

Merlin groaned. "Of course. The sorcerer wouldn't want his victims overcoming the spell on their own."

"So what do we do now?" Gwaine asked as he gave the chains a testing pull. They didn't budge for him either.

Merlin began to pace.

Arthur folded his arms and regarded the locked door. If it was protected by magic, then they'd need magic to open it, which they didn't have.

Merlin pulled up short suddenly and stretched his arm out. The air shimmered and in the next moment, a gleaming sword appeared in his hand.

Arthur jolted. "How did you do that?" he demanded.

Merlin turned around, shrugging sheepishly. "This is all in the mind, right? I just…imagined it." He came over and held the blade out to Arthur. "You wield it."

Arthur eyed him skeptically as he cautiously took the hilt. The sword felt good in his hand…felt right. "You want me to wield an imaginary sword on a magic lock?"

There was an odd look on Merlin's face as he nodded and stepped back.

Arthur glanced at Gwaine and Percival, who merely shrugged and backed up. Well, he supposed there was nothing for it.

Arthur turned to the door and raised the sword above his head, then brought it down with all his might. Sparks flew as the blade cut a chink through the chain. Arthur swung again. The sword almost hummed in his grip. The chains creaked from the second blow, denting further. Arthur raised his blade up for a third time, and when the sword finally cut through the iron, the door cracked open, spilling out blinding bright light.

He threw his arm up to shield his eyes, and in the next instant, he came back to himself with a gasp. He was no longer in that black void, and his hands were empty as he found himself standing in the cave, slumped over the edge of the stone slab. Pushing himself up, he found Gwaine and Percival also looking like they were just waking up. Elyan was holding Merlin propped up against his chest, the servant barely conscious.

"Sire, are you all right?" Leon asked urgently, grabbing hold of Arthur's arm.

"I think so," he said blearily, still trying to orient himself. He looked around the cavern and spotted the old man, who inclined his head toward them.

"Your seeking is finished."

Arthur furrowed his brow, then looked to Lancelot, who was also coming around. His eyelids fluttered groggily as he prized them open.

"Arthur?" he whispered. Then his head lolled limply to the side as he passed out again.

Arthur turned back to the old man to ask more questions of him, but he was gone. Leon darted over to where he'd been standing and looked around the back of the cave. He turned back and shook his head. Arthur sagged over the edge of the altar. Figured.

"Merlin?" he asked in concern.

"'M fine," his manservant mumbled.

"What happened?" Elyan asked.

"I'm not sure." Arthur glanced at Lancelot again.

"We did it," Merlin said assuredly, still leaning heavily against Elyan. "We broke both spells."

Arthur dearly hoped so. But since it seemed there was nothing left for them to do here, all they could do was head back to Camelot and wait for Lancelot to wake again.


	10. Chapter 10

Lancelot woke to a headache so brutal that he didn't want to open his eyes or even move. But returning consciousness was persistent and refused to let him slip back into merciful oblivion, so after several long moments, he tried lifting his lids. The light immediately pierced his skull and he slammed them shut again, an agonized moan slipping past his lips.

"Easy," a soft voice soothed.

He lay still, focusing on breathing in and out through his nose as he fought the sickening pain. After a few more moments, he risked trying again. The light was still too bright, and squinting only seemed to make his head pound worse, but he was able to get a glimpse of Gaius's chambers. And if he was laid up in here, that could only mean his state had to match how badly he was feeling.

He turned his head toward where he'd heard the familiar voice, blinking as Merlin's profile came into view. His mouth turned down when he saw Merlin's arm cradled in a sling.

"Merlin, are you all right?" he rasped. "What happened to you?" He tried to push himself up onto his elbow to better see his friend, but a wave of dizziness toppled him immediately. A hand pressed gently against his shoulder as he sank back into the cot.

"You don't remember?" Merlin asked carefully.

Lancelot's head felt like it was going to implode on itself, but he tried to think, tried to gather his scattered thoughts like chaff in a squall. The effort sent pulses of pain spiking through his skull.

"No," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut again. "Were we attacked?"

"It's a long story," Merlin said. "Gaius has something for you to drink."

Lancelot prized his eyelids open again to find the court physician hovering over him. He tried to lift his head on his own, but it was too weighted. Merlin slipped his good hand underneath his head and raised it for him as Gaius held a cup to his lips. The liquid was bitter on his tongue and he grimaced.

"It'll help with the pain," Gaius said knowingly.

Lancelot wanted to ask more questions, but he was already drifting away.

The next time he woke, he floated for a bit in a haze halfway between peace and pain. Low voices filtered over from somewhere nearby.

"He seems to know who he is," Merlin was saying. "He recognized me at least."

"He wasn't awake very long to answer questions," Gaius added.

Answer questions? He wanted to ask them.

Lancelot shifted, unable to hold back a moan, and the voices abruptly stopped. He forced his eyes open, his head still aching fiercely. Merlin, Gaius, and Arthur were standing a few feet away. Seeing him awake, Arthur came over and took a seat on the stool next to the cot, looking guarded. It prickled an uneasiness in Lancelot, but before he could ask anything, Arthur spoke first.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got kicked in the head by a horse," he replied bluntly. "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Lancelot sighed heavily. Thinking hurt and everything was so fuzzy. "Mm, I think I remember coming upon a group of peasants being attacked in the woods." His brows knitted together as he fought against the pounding drums behind his eyes. "I tried to help them but was captured too…something about slave traders?" He looked up at Arthur in question.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder at Merlin, the two of them sharing a look.

"What?" Lancelot asked nervously.

"You were taken by slavers," Arthur answered, his voice almost carefully even. "You were in their work camp for several weeks before we found you."

Lancelot's eyes watered from the unbearable light and he closed them again. "I don't remember that," he murmured.

Arthur placed a hand on his arm. "It's all right."

"What happened to Merlin?" he mumbled, but he drifted off again before he could get an answer.

.o.0.o.

Arthur watched Lancelot's head loll to the side as he fell asleep mid-sentence.

"It's to be expected, Sire," Gaius said. "Both his mind and body went through a great ordeal."

No kidding. Arthur was still slagging after his experience in Lancelot's mind, and he hadn't been the one subjected to two magical curses.

"What are we going to tell him about what happened?" Merlin spoke up.

"We should tell him the truth," Gaius replied.

"Tell him he tried to kill Arthur and almost killed me?" Merlin hissed. "That would devastate him!"

Arthur hung his head; he agreed, it would shatter Lancelot to know he'd hurt his friends and king. But Arthur also didn't want any secrets between them.

He stood with a sigh. "Not knowing the truth is how Morgana preyed on Lancelot in the first place." He looked at Gaius. "Send for me the next time he's awake and strong enough for the conversation."

Gaius nodded soberly.

Arthur returned to his duties after that, and it was several hours before Merlin came to get him with the news that Lancelot was more fully awake and in less pain. They walked back to Gaius's chambers together, Merlin looking glum.

"It's the right thing to do," Arthur told him.

"I know, but it's going to hurt him."

They reached Gaius's chambers and Merlin lingered outside as Arthur went in. Gaius looked up from Lancelot's bedside where he was helping the wounded knight drink some broth. With a solemn look, Gaius stood and stepped outside to give them privacy.

Arthur took a seat on the stool again but didn't speak. He didn't really know where to start.

"Something's wrong," Lancelot said quietly. Even though his ventures into consciousness had been fleeting, Arthur could tell he was himself again. "Is it one of the other knights?" Lancelot asked fearfully. "Was someone killed?"

"No," Arthur quickly assured him. He took a deep breath and then proceeded to tell Lancelot all that had happened, from when they'd found him in the slave camp without his memory, to Morgana brainwashing him. When he reached the part of Lancelot attacking him and Merlin, Lancelot's face drained of color.

"None of us hold your actions against you," Arthur said firmly. "We all know you were under Morgana's spell."

"I tried to kill you," he said, voice breaking. "And Merlin…" Lancelot brought a hand up to cover his eyes.

"It wasn't really you."

Lancelot didn't say anything, didn't even look at him. Arthur went on with the story, finishing by telling him how they'd broken the two curses and how he'd come to be here now, with his memory intact.

"It is intact?" Arthur added carefully.

Lancelot nodded shakily, his face still hidden under his arm. "Except for…all of that."

Arthur thought that was a blessing, even though he'd had to tell Lancelot everything that happened. It was better he didn't actually remember it, though.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Arthur said. "But you can't blame yourself."

Lancelot didn't respond. He finally dropped his arm but turned his face away. His expression was turning distant, like he was shutting down, retreating into himself. Arthur lingered a few moments longer before getting up to leave and let him process everything.

Gaius and Merlin were waiting in the corridor when Arthur emerged, and they all shared grim looks.

"How did it go?" Gaius asked.

"How we expected." He looked at Merlin. "You should talk to him."

Merlin nodded and quickly squeezed past Arthur to go inside.

Arthur looked back at the now closed door, picturing the devastation on Lancelot's face. Why did doing what was right carry so much pain?

.o.0.o.

Merlin crossed the room and took a seat next to Lancelot's cot. Lancelot was turned toward the screen partition, his expression wracked with pain that Merlin figured wasn't just physical anymore.

"Lancelot," he said softly.

"You shouldn't be here, Merlin," came the weak reply.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Lancelot finally turned his head toward him, eyes wavering with so much anguish. "I'm so sorry, Merlin."

"It wasn't you," he insisted. "I know you would never hurt me."

"But I _did_." Lancelot looked away again.

"You were under an enchantment and I don't blame you. I blame Morgana."

Lancelot shook his head in denial. "Did I hurt anyone else?" he choked out.

Merlin hesitated, which made Lancelot snap his eyes open frantically.

"Did I?"

"No! Not, not like this." Merlin gestured to his arm in the sling. "You, uh, did say some hurtful things while under Morgana's influence. They were her words, though, not yours, and everyone knows that."

Lancelot moaned. "I can never atone for this."

"You have _nothing_ to atone for," Merlin said, vexed at his friend's propensity to punish himself. "Don't you see how much your friends care for you? Arthur went to _magic_ to save you. That should say something."

Lancelot still didn't look convinced, but a second later his eyes widened and he looked at Merlin in alarm. "Did you tell…?"

Merlin smiled widely; now he knew for certain Lancelot's memories were fully back.

"No, not this time," he replied. "Arthur just acted on some secondary information." Expression falling, Merlin reached out and squeezed Lancelot's hand. "I wish you could remember those parts, see that we all were determined to stand by you, no matter what. That no matter what Morgana made you do, we were going to do everything we could to bring you home." He smiled again. "And we did."

Lancelot closed his eyes against an upwelling of emotion. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.

Merlin just gave his hand another fervent squeeze and continued to sit by his side until he fell asleep again.

.o.0.o.

It was another day before Lancelot was well enough to get up and the crippling headache had receded to a minor discomfort. He asked Arthur if he could gather everyone so Lancelot could speak to them. Despite Merlin's—and Arthur's—assurances that he was at no fault for his actions, Lancelot was compelled to address those he'd hurt.

They gathered in the council chambers—Arthur, his fellow Knights of the Round Table, Merlin, Gwen, and Gaius. They all held nothing but concern in their eyes as Lancelot stood before them. He flicked his gaze around the room. This was where he'd attacked Arthur and Merlin, but he couldn't see it. Both of them seemed to think it was better that way.

Lancelot forced himself to meet everyone's eyes. "I can never apologize enough for my actions." He held up a staying hand when several mouths opened to argue with him. "Regardless of my being under a spell, they were my words and my hands that caused so much hurt. I don't remember any of it…for better or worse, I don't know. And I'm immensely grateful for what you did to save me, even though I didn't deserve it at that point."

"Oh, enough already," Gwaine interrupted, stepping forward and clapping Lancelot on the shoulder with one hand while jabbing a finger at him with the other. "I don't want to hear you talk like that again. We're friends, a brotherhood. We would do anything for each other."

"It could have been any one of us," Leon put in. "Would you not extend your forgiveness without a second thought if it were?"

Lancelot sighed; of course he would.

"That's what I thought," Leon went on. He stepped forward and reached out to clasp forearms with him.

Gwaine pulled him into a brief hug, then slapped him heartily on the back. "Welcome back, mate."

Percival hugged him next, followed by Elyan.

"You're all a bunch of girls," Arthur remarked.

Gwen shot him a dry glare as she stepped up to Lancelot.

Lancelot faltered. "Gwen…I don't remember what I might have done to hurt you, but knowing Morgana…" He ducked his gaze. "I'm deeply sorry for whatever it was."

She reached up to cup his cheek. "There's nothing to forgive." She then pulled him into an embrace as well. "I'm glad you're back safe."

Arthur stepped forward last and gripped his forearm fervently. "Welcome home."

Lancelot smiled, looking around at his dearest friends all smiling back at him. He couldn't imagine having ever forgotten them, of not having them in his life.

And he hoped that was a nightmare he'd never have to face again.


End file.
